Broken
by Delicious Caek
Summary: People say that the RED Heavy is a stupid man with a heart of stone, but no one has ever gotten close enough to him to find out the truth. Can the RED Medic break this Russian giant's tough exterior?
1. Monster

"**Heh heh. Can't hit what ain't dere fatty!" **The Blue Scout cried out, running past the heavyset Russian man. He was one his way to capture the intelligence from the Red team base, when he had heard the sound of the man's mini-gun spinning. The Red Heavy knew that he was around, just wasn't sure of where.

So the Scout downed a whole can of Bonk! Atomic Punch, so he could easily escape the large man's bullets. It was a foolproof plan, really, since the energy drink gave him a boost of speed like no other. A boost that he could use to avoid the slow moving Russian man.

The Scout could see the briefcase ahead, and could easily run up to it and run away before losing the boost of speed. But instead he chose to antagonize the bald Russian.

He ran circles around the man, causing the man to spin in slow circles, spraying bullets as he turned. The Scout dodged everything easily, laughing childishly as he ran.

The older Russian screamed in fury at the Scout, trying his hardest to move faster. Unfortunately, his gun slowed him down by exponential levels, especially when he was shooting it. So the Scout just continued running circles around him.

"**Look at me! I'm not even winded! Getting tired fat man?" **The Scout taunted, laughing evilly. He could tell his speed boost was wearing down, so he pulled out his shotgun, the Force-A-Nature. Once the boost was gone, he ran towards the intelligence, turning around every so often to see if the Red Heavy was following him.

He was, giving Scout the perfect opportunity to shoot. One shot blew the large man back a few steps, allowing him to grab the briefcase with ease. But instead of running out the typical escape exit that the opposing team would use, the young Boston native decided to turn around and taunt the hulking Russian man.

"**Today ain't ya day, pancakes. Look at you, I mean LOOK at you! I am owning you you fat, bald bastard." **The Scout said, running circles around the man. He double jumped out of the way when the man dropped his mini-gun and pulled out his shotgun. The man was much faster with the shotgun out, so the Scout knew he'd have to dodge by jumping here. But still, heavy was quite slow just from his own weight alone so Scout wasn't too scared.

The Heavy roared in anger, and continued to fire shots from his gun at the Scout. The man had no words for this punk kid, nor did he have the patience to deal with him. All he wanted was for his young tormentor to leave him alone. Or drop dead, whatever happened first. He wouldn't even care if the kid got away with the intel, so long as he just left.

The Scout continued to mess around, figuring he was in a great situation. He could easily rip into this guy with his Force-A-Nature, and then run off with the intelligence safely strapped to his back. His speed was just too great for the large Russian. He just couldn't lose in this situation, especially since the Heavy wasn't being buffed by his Medic friend.

In that situation, Scout would not hesitate to get the hell out of there.

But since his team was already advancing upon the Red team, he figured he could mess around with this dim-witted Heavy for a while.

He let off another blast from his Force-A-Nature, this one at close range, causing the Heavy to fall back and hit the ground. The Scout assumed he was dead, a fact that surprised even Scout. He wasn't aware that the man was at a low enough health for him to nearly one-shot him.

But he didn't question the logic of the event, and instead focused on gloating ab out his victory. He smirked, and stood over the body of the Heavy. He couldn't believe how easy it was to defeat the man.

"**Not so tough without your medic buddy, are ya fatty? Heh. I think I'll take Sasha out for a steak dinner tonight. Whad'ya think about that?" **He said, sticking his tongue out. The Scout took a moment to stand there and laugh over the body of the Red Heavy. He went into his bag to grab another Atomic Punch, when he was interrupted by a large fist smashing him in the side of the face.

The Scout was in shock. He was sure he had seen the Heavy fall down dead, so how could he have hit him? Sure enough when the Scout turned to face the source of the punch it was the Heavy, standing with his fists out ready to destroy the Scout. The Heavy quickly punched the young boy a few times, knocking him out cold, and causing him to drop the intelligence. The man then picked up the intelligence and the Scout and carried him to a ledge. He looked into the unconscious face of the Scout, and gave a glare.

"**Spy not only one who can play dead, little man." **He said, dropping the body over the edge, to be eventually discovered by the Scout's team mates. And to hopefully be used as an example of what happens to those who cross the Heavy.

He then walked back to the intelligence room and dropped the briefcase onto the desk hard. He then went to sit behind the desk casually, pulling out a large rag in order to clean his guns. He rested his mini-gun Sasha in his lap, using the rag to wipe down any dirt or blood that happened to get on the gun when he was attacking the Scout. He then began to wipe down his fists when his team mates entered the room. A scout from the team was carrying the Blu team's intelligence on his back, while the rest of his team was behind him, as a defense. When the Scout dropped the other team's briefcase onto their desk they all took notice to the blood covered Heavy.

They stared at him, and his cool demeanor at the moment, despite being covered in blood. The Scout felt chills go up his spine as he realized that the Heavy was also carrying a trophy with him: A Sandman's bat. The Red Scout knew that his team mate would never hurt him, being they are on the same team, but seeing how he dealt with enemy Scouts always freaked him out. He always felt like he was next.

The Heavy felt everyone's stares, and he stopped wiping down his fists. He returned their gazes with an almost innocent look, to which his team questioned.

"**It was my job to protect briefcase, da?" **He asked them, wondering if maybe he wasn't supposed to have been the intel protection. The Spy on his team stepped forward and coughed.

"**Indeed it was, my Heavy friend." **the Red Spy said, seeming a little awkward in this situation. That in itself was surprising, because the Spy was usually the one to keep his composure in most situations.

"**Then what is problem Leon?" **He asked, addressing the Red Spy by his actual name. Leon made a gesture with his hands that would suggest that he was trying to say something, but he said nothing. He simply nodded to the Heavy, and shrugged. His team sort of stood their in the room, unsure of what to do now.

Heavy just looked at them, and noticed the Blue briefcase. He gave the smallest hint of a smile in his face as he saw the case.

"**So, we have the Blue briefcase? Then the mission is over. Horosho!" **The Heavy said, standing up. He walked past his team mates, all of whom watched as he passed by. He left the intel room, and walked up the stairs out of sight from his team mates. He dragged his "trophy" behind him, causing the Scout to cry out in fear. The Soldier laughed at the Scout.

"**Is little Scout scared of his own team mate?" **The Soldier teased, causing the Scout to scowl and shove the Soldier away.

"**Well yeah I'm scared. The guy eats Scouts for breakfast! Wouldn't you be scared if he made waste of Soldiers like that?" **The Scout asked. The soldier grimaced for a moment and then stood at attention.

"**I am a soldier, I have no fear!" **The Soldier said, almost mechanically. The response seemed tired and fake, as if it had been used one too many times. Also, the expression on his face didn't help his words either.

The Scout scoffed and pushed the Soldier slightly, causing him to trip and slouch a bit.

"**I'm just saying, that guy could snap at any second. One wrong move and BAM! We're fodder for his Mini-gun. The guy already seems to have some problem with us, seeing as he don't stay around us for too long." **The Scout said, shivering slightly at the thought.

The Spy frowned, and coughed. He wasn't too found of the team trash talking another member. Especially if the Scout was right about it, and the Heavy heard them talking about him.

The Engineer shook his head at the way the Scout was talking.

"**That there is just a sad display, boy. He's our team mate and you're talking about him like he's foul scum. That just ain't right." **The Engineer said, walking up to face the scout. The Scout just frowned.

"**Hey, I'm just saying from what I've seen dat guy do to Scouts, I'm a little cautious of him. Ya can't fight facts like dat." **The Bostonian said, trying to get his point out. He had nothing against the Heavy, he was just afraid of him from what he's seen of other Scouts.

"**Just 'cause a chicken has wings don't mean it can fly, String bean." **The Engineer retorted to the Scout. He refused to let Scout keep believing that their own team mate was a crazy person. Sure the Heavy was scary in combat, but that was combat, it should mean nothing in the real world.

The Scout moved closer to the Engineer, as if he was going to challenge him to fight or something. He put up his fists and took a fighting pose.

"**Where I come from, name calling is grounds for a fight. Ya feel tough, smart guy?" **The Scout said, moving in place like a boxer would. The Engineer lifted his wrench, as if to scare off the Scout, and laughed. He made a motion as if to challenge him, when the Pyro jumped between the both of them. With a quick burst from the flamethrower, both of them separated, allowing for the Spy to walk into the center of the group.

"**Now, this is no way to be behaving. We are a team, and we are adults, and we shall act as such." **The Spy said, giving looks to both the Scout and the Engineer. Both of them looked away in shame.

"**So with that, who wants to go talk to our large friend? Because clearly this team needs to work on team building, and the best way to do that is to get to know your team mates. So who shall go talk to him?" **The ever-calm Leon asked, giving a look to the Scout. But Scout backed away, shaking his head furiously. The Spy rolled his eyes, and looked around the room. No one seemed to want to volunteer, seeing as when his eyes met the others they looked away.

"**Really? Are you all so afraid of your own team mate that you won't go talk to him? This is pathetic." **He said, groaning at the amount of cowardice on the team.

Leon was about to speak once more when a gloved hand was raised. It was the Medic, finally volunteering to go talk to Heavy.

"**It seems ze frauleins are too busy crying to be bothered vith zis. Ze Heavy trusts me more zan zose dummkopfs anyvay." **The Medic said with a sigh. He could not understand what everyone else was so afraid of. He was their team member for Christ's sake! Besides, the Medic had spent quite some time with him on the battlefield, and he knew the Heavy only fought the enemy.

The Medic left the room, trying to follow the path that the Heavy took. He went up the stairs, noticing the blood stains from the Scout he destroyed earlier.

That man was very loyal, or so he had seen. He only ever fought to do his job, and never did anything he wasn't asked. What was there to worry about?

As he rounded the stairs and went up to the main floor of the base, he noticed more blood stains and hints of dead bodies. That was hardly enough to bug him, seeing as he was a man of medicine and quite often saw bloody scenes during battle, and after it. He was the one who ran the mini-hospital in their base, used primarily to find and save anyone who had been shot or bludgeoned into unconsciousness. Once found, they were hooked up to a large machine that worked like his Medi-gun and after a few minutes they were fighting fit.

He continued on his search, hearing the sound of Russian music being played from somewhere distant. He followed that as his lead, and as he followed he began to get an eerie feeling inside. He could see a large difference from this area and the area that he had previously been in. For one thing, this area seemed to be darker and dirtier.

The music got louder, and the Medic knew he was entering Heavy's domain at this point.

It was essentially a section of the base reserved for those who chose to live within the base, though this section was pretty much a dead area since most of the team who lived here lived in the newer section, a section that actually got cleaned and maintained. The Medic breathed in through his nose and the harsh smell of cleaning agents hit his nose. He wasn't exactly sure where the smell could be coming from, seeing as the hallway he was in didn't seem to have been cleaned recently.

The doctor followed the scent and the sound, leading him to the end of the hallway to a door that was slightly opened and had light pouring out. The man stood outside and looked in carefully at what was going on inside the room.

Inside, Heavy was sitting on a bed holding his gun to him. There was a bottle of bleach on a small table next to him, and he was holding a soaked rag to the gun. He was carefully wiping the gun with the chemical, making sure the bleach didn't stay on one spot for too long. He was being extremely careful with his gun, and smiling as he cleaned.

"**Oh Sasha, you are only one who understands me. You are only one I ever love, my Sasha." **The man inside the room said gently to the gun. The tone he used was so soft, the Medic standing outside strained to hear.

"**They look at me like I am monster. It is very painful. But you understand, da? You do not think I am monster, Sasha, and that is why I love you." **Heavy said, hugging his gun tight.

The Medic frowned, the scent of the bleach practically suffocating him. How was it that the Russian was able to sit there in a closed up room with an open bottle of bleach and a bleach soaked rag so close to his face? Even at this distance, the Medic was choking. So how did that man stand to be surrounded by the fumes?

The Medic let out a cough, causing Heavy to jump in fear and scowl.

"**Who is there? Speak now or die." **Heavy said, glaring into the small crack in the door. The Medic stepped into view, and opened the door up slightly. He tried to give a smile, but couldn't help doing anything else but continue coughing.

Heavy put his weapon down and walked over to the Medic. He jabbed him once in the side, making sure he wasn't a spy, to which the Medic wheezed. The Heavy frowned, and went back to his bed, motioning for the Medic to come inside.

The Medic nodded, and breathed deeply into his medi-gun the Kritzkrieg. The inhalation of the concentrated medicine helped him breath easier in the room. The man tried to find a window to open so that the fumes could escape but there were none.

"**Heavy, vat are you doing in a room full of noxious fumes? Doing zis could kill you." **The Medic said, walking up next to the man and aiming the Kritzkrieg at him. He gave the man a few blasts from the gun, enough to help him breath normally. The use of his gun helped to normalize that room's oxygen levels, since the medi-gun contained oxygen in it.

The Heavy sighed, and shrugged. He didn't give the man an answer, and avoided the German doctor's eyes. He seemed to be thinking up an acceptable excuse for sitting in a room full of toxic fumes.

"**Sasha was dirty. I had to clean her. Sorry for the trouble."** Heavy said, looking at the Medic uninterestedly.

The Medic cocked his head to one side, and frowned.

"**It is no trouble, Heavy. It is vorrisome to the team, zough. Ve are concerned about you." ** The Medic said, fixing his glasses slightly. He was lying at the moment, since most of the team were concerned that he was a serial killer or something. But Medic was quite concerned, given the man's words to his mini-gun.

Heavy scoffed, and went back to polishing his gun. He covered up the bottle of bleach, and placed it under the table next to a bottle of ammonia.

_All zese cleaning supplies... Vat is he doing to himzelf? _The Medic wondered, frowning slightly at the situation. He did not like it one bit.

"**That is funny joke, doktor. This team, concerned about me. Please, doktor, call me Mikhail, it is only proper." **The Heavy said, giving away his real name to the Medic. The Medic nodded, but still frowned. He didn't like the fact that Mikhail was acting so depressingly.

"**Vell, ze team vants me to speak vith you. So tell me, mein Freund, vat is ze matter?" **The Medic said, sitting down on a chair next to the bed that Mikhail sat on.

He stared at the doctor like the man was crazy.

"**Nothing is the matter, doktor. Things are wonderful here." **Mikhail said, giving the man a very unconvincing look. His light blue eyes gave a look of desperation, like he was begging the doctor to probe him for answers.

The Medic could just tell that the Russian man was desperate to have someone talk to him.

"**I can tell zat you are lying, mein Kamerad. Now, please tell me vat is going on in your mind. Vat is your problem vith ze Scouts?" **The Medic said, taking a serious tone with the man. The Russian looked at him, and decided to just tell the truth for once.

"**You want my story? Fine. But I warn you it is not pretty." **He said, eying the other man to gauge his reaction to Heavy's choice of words.

"**You seem to forget my line of vork, Kamerad. Nossing is pretty in my vorld, Mikhail." **The Medic said with a smirk. That was the truth, in a nutshell. The injuries he's seen, especially when he was a war doctor in Germany. The things that he saw back then was just insane.

The Heavy simply nodded, and let out a breath of air. He wasn't sure how prepared he was to tell his story to the man. It was then that the man realized his record player had shut off by itself, causing him to stall. He walked over to the machine and checked to see if had shut off from the record being finished, or if it was broken.

He toyed with it a little, and it began to work again. He just let it play low as background noise, since he felt a little self conscious about speaking to the Medic. The music was a Russian choir piece, sung by a female vocalist with an orchestra in the background. It seemed so sad, and yet so beautiful to the Medic.

"**Well, the story begins when I was little boy back in Soviet Russia..." **Mikhail began, recounting the tale of his childhood in Russia.

((Author's note: So, here's my first story on . :D Horosho! How did I do for my first time? I shall be uploading the second part as soon as I finish it, which should be soon since I have no school tomorrow. Please feel free to leave me comments about my work. Also, please forgive the way the story may feel rushed, I was working quickly to get to certain parts. I do that sometimes. xD

Also I guess, I should do some translation here. Just so you know, all of the Russian is a rough Romanization of the words. I found them online with quotes of the Heavy's lines, so I decided to use them. Please tell me if I failed at translating/spelling.

Da = Yes

Horosho! = Excellent

Frauleins = ladies

Dummkopfs = fools

mein Freund = my friend

mein Kamerad = my comrade ))


	2. Running Away

Mikhail Khilotrov stood in the crowded hallway of his school, nervous for his first day of eighth grade. He hoped that this year was better than last year, seeing as he used to get teased for being so different than the other kids. But he knew that this year would be good, since his family had just moved to an entirely different part of Russia.

His light blue eyes scanned the crowd of students, wondering if any of them would want to be friends with him. His head of thick, dark brown hair was trimmed according to the school's policies on male hair length. An unfortunate part of the soviet school system was that everyone had to wear uniforms.

Mikhail didn't mind it so much, since he felt it helped to unify everyone. He felt like he was a part of a large team or an elite group. It made him feel like he belonged with everyone.

As he slowly walked down the hallway, walking slow mainly to scope out potential friends and to find his new locker. He was quite excited to actually get to use a locker this year. Last year, they had him use shelves in the classroom, something he found so childish.

As he walked, he heard kids whispering things as they looked at him walking. The 13 year old smiled, believing that they were probably talking about him being the new kid. It made him feel important to be talked about by everyone.

Despite what Mikhail had been through previously, he still felt like there was good in all people. It was one of the greatest qualities about him, his optimistic attitude about people. He felt like everyone had their redeeming qualities, and that everyone just started off good.

"_Nobody is born evil. Everyone has good inside of them, and if you show people kindness and love, you'll never encounter a problem." _Mikhail often told his parents. It was something they were both proud and fearful of. They knew that their son would get teased for his weight and his intelligence, and they knew his positive outlook on people would eventually falter over time.

His locker was number 362. He had just walked past locker 350, and smiled. He headed down the long hallway, counting up with the locker numbers as he walked. Finally, he reached number 362.

It looked exactly the same as all the other lockers, and yet his locker was different from everyone else's in that his was not surrounded with friends, like all of the other students' lockers. The stout boy frowned slightly, and shrugged, opening his locker up to put away his books and his fur-lined jacket. That jacket had been a gift from his grandfather, and was a prized possession to him. He was glad to finally have a safe spot to store the jacket, after a year of having to carry it with him all the time to avoid anything happening to it.

After preparing himself for his first class, literature, he turned to look around the hall. He still seemed to be the center of attention around the school, something that made him pretty happy. He stood by his locker and waited for someone to come up and greet him. He figured at least someone would be kind enough to introduce themselves to the new kid.

He stood there waiting for 15 minutes, until the morning bell rang to signal everyone to go to class. Mikhail was a little confused, seeing as he hadn't had the time to meet anyone and ask for help around the school. But he just shrugged and tried to follow the signs along the wall to the literature class.

Being a pretty well-versed person, Mikhail loved literature. It was his favorite school class last year, as well as the year before, despite the material being too "childish" for him. He was pretty well read, considering certain books were not usually allowed in Russian society. He had been given the opportunity to read up on writers like Shakespeare and Jane Austen, writers who were typically shunned by Russian society of that time.

He had uncovered a hidden section in his local library, where there were books that he knew would get him in trouble for having read. But he took some of them anyway, and even went back a few times to read more stories. He was absolutely fascinated by the works of English writers, and wondered if one day he too could write that well.

The boy stumbled into class a few minutes, having been lead astray by misleading signs. They told him to go one way for his literature class, when it sent him to the athletic building.

"Mikhail Khilotrov, is that anyway to present yourself on your first day? Tardiness will not be tolerated, young man."The literature teacher, Mila Akhatova, said to him strictly.

Mikhail nodded to her silently. He was too winded to even begin to explain the problems he had encountered so far. He sat down at the empty desk next to a thin boy who had a ball cap perched on his desk. He smiled kindly to the boy, trying to catch a peek at what they had been doing before he got in. The boy took notice of this, and covered his book.

Mikhail frowned and looked away. He opened his notebook slowly, and pulled out his ink and pen. He prepared himself to ask the teacher what the assignment was, when he felt a folded paper hit him. It was from the boy next to him and read: "We're doing a beginning of the year assignment. We just write a short essay about ourselves and our favorite childhood stories that we'd like to read in this class."

Mikhail smiled and silently thanked the boy, as he began work on his little essay. He found it kind of strange that in an 8th grade literature class they would be studying childhood tales, but Mikhail didn't fight it. He put down a couple of his favorite Russian fairy tales, and gave a little explanatory first paragraph. He gave his name, age, and a few facts about himself.

The young boy was very excited about this essay, considering it took him all of ten minutes to write. He flipped the paper over, and waited for Mrs. Akhatova to come around and collect it. So he began working on a short story in his spare time to make it seem like he was working. The thin boy next to him noticed he wasn't working on his essay, and frowned. He poked him in the arm to get his attention, and made a motion as if saying to hand it in to the teacher.

Mikhail nodded, and raised his hand. The teacher looked at him strangely and took his question.

"I have finished the assignment, Mrs. Akhatova."He said, holding out his paper for the teacher. She took it from him, and read it over. The older woman chuckled at the paper, and shook her head. Mikhail looked down at his desk, a little confused and embarrassed.

His teacher walked away, just when he thought the woman would hand him back his paper to rewrite it. She walked over to her desk and began to grade it, pulling out a red marker and scribbling furiously on the page.

Mikhail sighed, and rested his head on his desk. He was afraid today was going to be a long day.

After a minute or so, he felt a ball of paper hit his head. He grabbed the ball and opened it up, revealing a note from the kid next to him with the ball cap.

It read: "Don't worry about her. Everyone knows she doesn't grade fair. I bet your paper was spectacular."

Mikhail smiled, and turned to the boy. He then added his own note to the paper, "Thanks for that. I'm Mikhail." and tossed the paper back. Within seconds, the paper had come back to him with a note under his: "The name is Misha Balakirev. Nice to meet you Mikhail."

Mikhail decided to keep the note this time, seeing as their teacher had begun to get suspicious of them and had started pacing the rows of desks. It probably would not help either boy if their teacher saw that they were writing notes about her. Mikhail simply smiled to himself, and leaned his head in his folded arms.

_Maybe things won't be so bad here..._

_A few weeks later..._

"C'mon fatty! Get your lunch back!" A young russian boy called out. He had light brown hair, and held a metal lunch pail above his head. The boy opened it up, and searched through it.

"Give it back to me Viktor!" Mikhail cried out as he lumbered towards the smaller boy. The light haired Viktor simply laughed with delight, and pulled out a sandwich from the pail. It was well prepared, and full of ham, cheese, turkey, and lettuce. It was Mikhail's favorite combination, and his mother had even thrown in a little bologna in there to mix it up slightly.

"Oh, what do we have here? A sandwich made by mommy?" Viktor asked, knowing that it was true. He did a little more inspecting, while Mikhail tried to swipe the pail away. The lighter boy easily dodged the large boy's fists as they came swinging down. It was almost too easy for Viktor.

The boy found a thermos of juice, a Dalokohs chocolate bar, some crackers, and a napkin with a note on it at the bottom of the pail. The boy grinned evilly and pulled out the note. Mikhail panicked, and tried to increase his speed and power to get his mother's note back.

"Don't read that!" He cried out, charging towards the boy. He had nearly reached him, when Viktor threw the pail and the note towards another kid who had come up behind him. They intended on playing a game of keep away from Mikhail til they had fully embarrassed him.

Mikhail turned to look at the new boy who had come up, and saw that same boy from literature with the baseball cap. He gave the boy a questioning look, and attempted to smile. Mikhail hoped that maybe the boy would remember how they had shared a few good moments in class before.

"Misha... Please... Let me have it back." Mikhail said softly. He held his hands out in front of him, and smiled gently, hoping his smile might help Misha decide to hand it over. Misha had essentially been his only friend, and had occasionally joined him for lunch when the other kids that he sat with went outside to play. During those times Mikhail had helped Misha with his other classwork, mainly math and literature. Mikhail knew that Misha simply could not forget those things.

The brown haired Misha simply looked from Mikhail's face to the lunch pail, and back again. He opened the napkin note, read it, and crumpled it in his hands. He dropped the note to the ground, and threw the lunch pail away from him. The others cackled with delight at Misha's actions, while Mikhail just stared. He wasn't sure what had gotten into Misha to make him act to rudely, but he was still thankful that the boy had not read the note from his mother.

Misha walked off, seeming distant and cold to Mikhail as he left. The dark haired boy scrambled around the floor to pick up his note and his lunch, while the other children just laughed and followed Misha away.

Viktor remained, however, to taunt the distraught Mikhail.

"Enjoy your lunch fatty." The thin boy smirked, and spit on the ground next to Mikhail before he walked away.

Mikhail just laid there, his lunch scattered around him as if his lunch box had been a grenade. He slowly sat himself up, in order to organize the mess that had been his lunch. As he looked up to get his sandwich, he saw a female figure just a few feet away from him. She had his thermos in her hands, and she was smiling.

The girl had long blonde hair, and she knelt down to be at the same eye level as Mikhail. Mikhail cautiously reached for the bottle, and after she relinquished it he checked it to make sure it was fine. He then watched as the girl turned around to help pick up the rest of his lunch, organizing what she could into the lunch pail.

Mikhail sat there, confused.

"Why are you helping me?" He asked her, getting straight to the point. She looked up from the lunch pail, her smile unwaivering.

"Because you seemed like you needed help." She said with a voice almost as calming as his mother's.

The boy sat there, bewildered. Sure, he liked to believe that people were just naturally nice, but after spending a few weeks in this school he had begun to doubt his own words. He had only made one friend, and that person completely made a fool of him today.

The girl waited for him to say something, and when he didn't, she brought her attention back to his lunch pail. The handle appeared to have broken off, leaving two holes where the handle had once been. The girl looked quizzically at the pail, wondering what could be done about fixing it.

After a minute, the girl smiled again, and reached up to her blonde hair. She untied a ribbon from her hair, and tied it to the two holes in the pail. She double knotted the ribbon, making sure it would not break until Mikhail returned home to have it fixed.

"There you go! A quick fix for a small problem." She said, smiling proudly at her quick thinking and quick work. Mikhail gave the girl an awkward smile.

"Thank you for the help." He said softly, almost afraid to speak to her. The boy never was any good at talking to girls, mainly because he was extremely self-conscious. He assumed every girl would rather be tortured than talk to him. It wasn't all that far off from the truth, though.

"No problem. I find it fun to help others. It's a great way to meet friends." She told him cheerily.

Mikhail simply nodded, thinking about what she had said.

"I'm Karina Faustin."

"I'm Mikhail Khilotrov."

The girl smiled at his name. "Well, Mikhail, it was really nice meeting you. Maybe we'll have another chance encounter some other time?" She asked him, giving him a sincere smile. It was a smile he hadn't seen in a long time.

"Yeah, that would be nice." Mikhail said, returning her smile.

The girl giggled gently, and stood up. She waved to Mikhail, and ran out the door to go back to her classroom.

Mikhail watched her leave, and sighed with content. He looked at the lunch pail with a slight smile. He thought about what she said about meeting friends by helping, and he couldn't help but giggle childishly. He ran his fingers over the smooth silk of the ribbon she had attached to his pail, and sighed dreamily.

_Karina Khilotrov... Has a nice ring to it... _He thought, imagining himself with the his kind new friend.

_Two months later..._

After their first chance encounter, Karina and Mikhail began to see each other more often. At first they were mainly by pure chance, like bumping into each other in the hallway, but soon enough they began to seek each other out. Karina waited for Mikhail every morning by his locker, and they would walk to class together. They happened to share their first class in the same hallway, considering they were both in the 8th grade, so each day they made the walk down the hall together.

Eventually, Karina began to sit with Mikhail in the lunch room. He was usually too scared to eat inside the lunch room, so he often found himself eating on the back steps of the school. But Karina got him to come inside for lunch once the whether became too cold to stay outside. She had tried to introduce him to her friends, but her friends all claimed they were busy that lunch.

Mikhail felt like he was on top of the world. Finally, he had a true friend who wasn't afraid to be seen with him. A female friend no less! He finally felt like he was cared for by someone other than his mother.

And the feeling was amazing.

Karina was just not afraid of admitting that she was friends with Mikhail. She had even stuck up for him in public on a few occasions when she caught people making fun of him. And if she wasn't there to stop the bullying, she'd usually be there to help ease the pain. She also happened to be a master at planning revenge against his greatest enemy: Viktor. She had one of her friends ask out Viktor, date him for a few days, and then humiliate him by dumping him in front of everyone.

She even got Misha to come back and be his friend again. He didn't know how, but Karina had convinced Misha that Viktor was a jerk, and that Mikhail was the good guy. That in itself amazed Mikhail.

"So Mikhail, I wanted to apologize for those other times. I didn't want to help Viktor, but he's just a powerful force in this school." Misha said, as he sat with Mikhail during lunch.

That day, Karina had said she had something else to do during lunch, something that he didn't quite catch when she had spoken to him briefly. But Mikhail didn't tell Misha that, fearing that the boy would leave him alone if Karina wasn't around.

"It's okay. I was just glad that you never read him that note from my lunch box that one time." Mikhail said, biting into his sandwich. He had bought a new lunch pail, but decided to keep Karina's ribbon tied onto the new handle as a memento of his friend. It always brought him joy to see that light pink ribbon.

Misha nodded at him, and kept looking around the room. He seemed nervous about something.

_Probably wondering where Karina is, and if the others are looking at him. _Mikhail figured.

They sat in relative silence for a few minutes, as the two ate their lunches. Mikhail had his typical sandwich, while Misha had a cold turkey leg. He always wondered how Misha was able to afford to have food like turkey and ham as a lunch item, unless of course it was a leftover.

The two boys finished their lunches, and sat in silence. Their eyes darted around the room, awkwardly searching for something to look at or talk about.

After about 5 minutes of silence, Mikhail spoke up.

"I think I'm in love with Karina."

Misha just sat there, a little confused by Mikhail's admission.

"Wh-what? You really think so?" Misha asked, coughing awkwardly. Mikhail just nodded, giving his friend a smile. He had quite a lot of time to think about it, and he was sure he liked Karina.

"But you got to promise you won't tell anyone, okay? I'm trusting this with you." Mikhail said, taking a serious tone. He knew that Misha hadn't been such a faithful friend before, but he had given Misha a second chance. He knew that if Misha was unable to keep this secret, he'd ditch the guy for good. As they liked to say in baseball, two strikes and you're out.

Or maybe it was three strikes and you're out. Mikhail wasn't sure; he didn't keep up with sports.

Misha coughed once more, and smiled. "Maybe you should ask her out."

Now it was Mikhail's turn to cough. He had been drinking his milk when Misha said he should ask Karina out. That feat seemed impossible, no matter how close he was to Karina. He shook his head furiously, a blushing forming over his slightly chubby cheeks.

"Why not, man? She seems like she likes you." Misha said, gathering his garbage to throw out. The bell outside chimed, signalling it was time to clean up and go to class.

Mikhail looked at him inquisitively. "Do you really think she likes me?" He asked. Misha nodded.

"Definitely. You should do it. What's the worst that could happen?" Misha asked, more like stated, as he threw out his garbage.

_She says 'no', and I lose one of my only friends..._ Mikhail shrugged, not wanting to sound as depressing as his inner voice sounded.

Misha just grinned. "Go for it, man. Give it like a week, and then ask her out. I'll help you with it." He held out his hand for his friend to shake, as if making a promise that he would do it.

Mikhail smiled at his friend's words of encouragement, and nodded. He grabbed Misha's hand, and shook.

This year seemed to be turning out better than expected.

_The following week..._

Today was the day. Mikhail was going to ask out Karina, and he had his friend Misha on his side just in case things turned sour.

Mikhail had prepared a long time for this day, writing the perfect love note for Karina within that one week time frame. It perfectly admitted his love for her, and was accompanied with a single red rose for Karina. She had once likened the rose to himself.

"_They are beautiful to look at, but their exterior are covered with prickly thorns. People try to love the rose, but they get stuck by the thorns. It's very difficult to love a rose, but it's really easy to hate them for sticking them with what nature has given them." _

Mikhail twirled the rose in his fingers, as he nervously walked to his locker. He hoped Karina would be at his locker this morning so he could make the question that much easier.

But as he walked up to locker number 352, he saw no one was there. He frowned, trying to remember if he had told Misha to get Karina to meet up with him in the morning. He sort of shrugged, and opened up his locker. When he got the locker open, he found a slip of paper inside. It was a note from Misha.

"You can find Karina in the auditorium."

That was all that was on the slip of paper. It seemed weird, the note, considering it wasn't Misha's style to leave a paper unfolded. In fact, it almost seemed faked. But Mikhail put his questions aside to follow the advice of the paper. Maybe the boy had set up the meeting with Karina on his own to try and warm Karina up to the idea of getting asked out by Mikhail.

Mikhail just grinned, and quickly shut his locker. He practically ran down to the auditorium in order to finally ask out the girl of his dreams. He took a few deep breaths before he went inside, feeling as if his heart was going to burst from the excitement.

He threw the door open, and walked in, holding up the flower. He kept his eyes fixated on the floor, and he twirled the flower around between his large fingers.

"Karina, I've known you for a while, and I just wanted to ask you... Would you go out with me?" Mikhail asked, his eyes fixated on the carpet on the floor. He didn't check to see where she was in the room, he just assumed she'd hear him from wherever she was.

After a minute or two of silence, he finally looked up. Nobody was in the auditorium, besides Mikhail. The boy decided to investigate, and after climbing up the stairs of the stage the boy could hear a faint sound. It almost sounded like slurping, like a child lapping up ice cream from a cone as it melted. The boy pushed back the curtain on the stage to find the source of the sound.

It was that familiar gray ball cap, and the owner of the hat was busy kissing some blonde girl. Mikhail was about to turn away and give Misha his privacy with the girl, when the slurping stopped and an oh-so familiar voice called out his name.

"Mikhail? What are you doing here?" Karina asked, a bit surprised at his presence.

The same could be said for Misha, who was practically frozen to the spot in fear. He hadn't expected Mikhail to actually have the balls to ask Karina out, nor did he expect Mikhail to know where they had secretly been meeting for a week.

Mikhail just looked on at the two of them in absolute horror. He dropped the two items in his hands, as a migraine overtook his head. The whole situation was too much for Mikhail to absorb at that one moment.

_Misha... Kissing the girl I love... After encouraging me to ask her out..._

The pain in his head increased, so he grabbed his head in agony. The dark haired boy stumbled backwards a bit, before falling over on his butt. He folded his knees up to his body, and rested his head on his knees. He covered his head with his hands, and after a minute the boy began to sob.

_The one boy I trusted at this school... has betrayed me..._

Karina pushed herself away from Misha, who attempted to finish kissing before Mikhail came back to reality. She walked over to Mikhail, and leaned over him. She rested a hand on his shoulder, and tried to rub his back to ease his crying. Mikhail hardly noticed her through his sobs. He was just crying too heavily.

_The only girl I loved... The only one who ever showed love to me... _

Misha slowly turned around, and carefully walked towards Karina. He hid behind the girl, knowing that Mikhail wouldn't dare go after him if Karina intervened. Karina just frowned at how cowardly Misha was acting, and tried to talk to Mikhail to help him out.

"Mikhail, please don't cry. Please, tell your friends what's wrong." She said gently, trying her best to be calm and motherly to the crying boy. Misha stared cautiously at the boy, ready to run out of the room if he needed to.

_They are dead to me._

Mikhail snapped to attention when his thoughts hit him. He had no friends anymore. He never had any friends. That's how it always would be.

He pushed Karina's arm away from him when he realized she was touching him. He stared out into the distance with an ice-cold stare. Both Karina and Misha could feel the intensity and hardness in his stare.

"I have no friends." Mikhail said, finally standing up. Misha jumped backwards a foot when Mikhail moved, and the boy stood in a near fighting stance when Mikhail turned his icy stare towards Misha.

Misha whimpered in fear, his eyes darting back and forth from Mikhail towards the exit. He thought about running then, but he wasn't exactly sure what Mikhail was capable of doing when agitated. He figured the larger boy would have the animal instinct, which would be to chase the prey.

Mikhail pointed to the exit, and gave Misha a warning.

"If you wish to escape with your life, I'd suggest you run."

Misha didn't think twice about it, and after Mikhail finished speaking he had bolted out of the room.

Karina tried to speak to Mikhail, but he simply pointed to the exit. He said nothing to her, other than pointing to the door. She tried to protest, but he refused to listen to her. He was too upset to listen to what she had to say. She followed his advice, and left sadly.

Once he was all alone, he let out a roar of anger. The boy turned to face the closest object, which happened to be a row of chairs. He threw his fist into the chairs, smashing the first one to pieces as his fist connected with the object. The rest of the chairs went flying, smashing as they hit the wall. Mikhail picked up a desk that was sitting by itself, and flung it into the wall. He took the instruments in the room and began smashing them one by one, until all that was left was a large piano. That was the only thing that wasn't destroyed, save for things that couldn't be moved.

He surveyed the area and the damage he had done. He picked up the flower from the ground, and thought about what Karina had said about it.

"_It's hard to love the rose." _

He looked at the delicate flower, and crushed it in his palm. He dropped the crumpled mass of flower to the ground on top of his damage, and turned away to go to the back exit. He ripped off the jacket of his school uniform, and threw it to the ground.

"Mikhail Khilotrov will always be alone." The boy said, as he walked outside into the cold December air.


	3. Emergency

The record on the player had stopped playing, leaving the room in dead silence as Heavy's childhood story finished. The two men sat in silence as the record player provided faint white noise. It was just scraping along the edge of the vinyl, searching for the right groove to play some music.

Heavy stood up to go change the record, or at the very least turn it off. He put on the radio, and tuned it to a popular music station. The man wasn't exactly sure what the music was, but he didn't mind having it as background noise for now. Anything to break the awkward silence in the room.

The Medic looked at Heavy, who seemed to be avoiding his gaze. Now that Medic had heard the man's story, it was obvious as to why he wouldn't be comfortable with company. But something Medic noticed about Heavy was that he seemed to be hiding something else.

"Mikhail... Is zat all to ze story?" Medic asked questionably.

Mikhail just looked up at the Medic. He wondered how the man could see through him so easily. He didn't want to admit the rest of his life story to the man. He was terrified of what the man might think of him, and he was even more afraid of letting the man get close only to rip him to shreds like Misha did.

"No, is not all. I ran far away. I lived on streets, stole from rich and begged for food. I lived for years homeless." Mikhail said, still holding back with his story.

The Medic gave him another look, still unsure of if Heavy had given him the full story. Something was missing from the whole story. How had Heavy even gotten to America, if he was so poor?

"How did you get to America zhen, if you vere so poor?" the Medic asked.

"Red team leader, Redmond, came to me in Russia. He helped me come here. Wanted me for team." He said simply.

Medic furrowed his brow, trying to think of another way he could delve deeper into Heavy's mind. He knew if he picked the right words he may at least be able to read Heavy's facial expression to get some answer out of him.

"Vhat about you had Redmond specifically seek you out? You must not have been just some Russian street rat for Redmond to have searched for you."

Mikhail shifted awkwardly on his feet, feeling a little weird about speaking with the man. He wasn't accustomed to having long discussions with anybody, and he felt quite awkward speaking in English. He was also quite uncomfortable with all the questioning he was under.

He tried to come up with a quick response for Medic's question, but the man just couldn't find the right words. How was he going to get himself out of this mess?

The Medic smirked, knowing he had Mikhail right where he wanted him. All he needed to do was a little more interrogation and the Heavy would crack.

"Mikhail, zhere must have been somezing to you zhat made Redmond come for you. Vhas it your skill vith veapons? Vhere did you learn such techniques?" The Medic questioned. He stood up, and walked over to the Heavy. Mikhail had turned around to face the wall, and sort of lowered his head. He raised his arms to cover his ears, as if the Medic's questions were hurting him. He muttered to himself slowly in Russian, his words barely audible to the Medic. The Medic placed his gloved hand gently on Mikhail's shoulder, and smiled gently.

"Mikhail, you can talk to me. I am your friend." He said gently.

The Heavy began shaking his head, leaning further and further down. When the Medic told him they were friends, the man growled, and stood up. He swung his arm at the Medic, pushing him away with great force. The man was pushed back into the wall, hitting it with a loud thud.

"Mikhail has no friends!" He roared.

The Medic slid down the wall slowly, falling gently to the floor. He could feel he had broken a rib due to the force of the throw. He held his arms to his chest in pain, curling up into a fetal position.

Mikhail panted heavily, angrily, and stared at the Medic with anger in his eyes. But after a moment, the man seemed to snap back to reality as the anger drained from his eyes. The anger was quickly replaced with sorrow, specifically sorrow at what he had just done to the Medic. He had not meant to harm his doctor comrade.

Mikhail wiped his forehead and eyes with his large forearm. He walked over to the Medic, and carefully lifted him up. The Medic yelped in pain, and coughed. Mikhail placed the man down gently on the bed, and attempted to remove the man's Medi-pack from his back. Once off, he grabbed the Kritzkrieg and pushed all the correct button settings to make it heal the doctor.

Mikhail had seen his Medic comrades work their medi-gun's before, so he was able to easily work the machine to heal the man. After a few seconds, the man was healed enough so he could hobble to the medic bay and completely fix himself. His medi-gun was only useful for temporary fixes.

Mikhail lifted the Medic up gently, and carried him outside the room. He placed him gently in the hallway, leaving his Kritzkrieg next to him. When the Medic finally opened his eyes, he could faintly see Mikhail standing next to him. The Medic attempted to speak, but Mikhail put a finger to his mouth.

"Doktor, you must go." Mikhail said simply, before retreating back to him room. He shut the door forcefully, leaving Medic sitting against the wall.

The Medic crawled over to the doorway, and went to stand up and open Heavy's door. He wanted Mikhail to know that there would be no hard feelings for what had just occurred, and that it was an honest mistake.

He grabbed the handle of the door, attempting to use it to stand up. Once he was on his feet, he prepared himself to enter the room again. He jiggled the handle, and felt that it had been locked from the inside. The Medic frowned at the door, and wheezed slightly. Even with the healing from the Kritzkrieg, that blow had been devastating. He knew that if he didn't go to the medical bay soon he might be in serious trouble.

The Medic heard the music in the room turn up. The Medic could hear the faintest sound of crying from inside, and occasionally someone speaking in Russian.

_Dammit! I knew I should have finished taking Russian in school. _The Medic thought, as he gripped the handle with all his might. He was struggling to keep himself up with the slight pain in his chest, and also struggling to hear what Mikhail was saying.

He could pick up bits and pieces of what Mikhail was saying through the breaks in the music, and with what little Russian he knew.

"_...faith in humanity... ...I'm forever alone... ...my time of reckoning... ...I won't be missed... ...easily replaceable... ...nothing but a monster..." _The Medic was able to translate that much from his lacking Russian skills. It was also hard to translate over the music and Mikhail's forceful sobs.

"Mikhail! Open zis door!" The Medic called out, rapping on the door with his left hand. There was no response from inside, but the doctor did know that Mikhail had heard him for the talking to himself had ceased.

The scent of ammonia escaped from inside the room, and the doctor suddenly figured it out. He was trying to combine ammonia and bleach.

He was essentially creating a chlorine gas chamber like the ones used in Nazi Germany.

The doctor wore a look of absolute horror at his realization, and began forcefully pounding on the door. He began throwing his body into the door, to not only make more noise, but to attempt to break the door down.

"Stop vhat you are doing mein freund! Your life is precious, do not throw it away!" The Medic cried out, throwing himself against the door.

The blow back from hitting the door sent him flying, so the doctor crawled over to his medi-pack and inhaled the Kritzkrieg's medicine. He then put on the Kritzkrieg, knowing that it would give him a burst of medicine every few seconds if he was wearing it. He allowed the machine a few seconds to heal him, and then he charged at the door again.

_It's times like these that I wish I was a Demoman... _

After another failed charge attempt, the man fell into a heap. It was just impossible to break through that door, especially in the state he was in. The Medic began to cry in both sorrow and frustration. He was quite upset that his team mate felt so upset that he wished to die. He was also upset to see his past coming back to haunt him.

The man could see it now...

_A dark, dank room, full of people crying out in fear. People huddled up to each other, some crying, some screaming. All of them incredibly worn out. It grows silent, except for the crying, and then a siren is heard. A cold air is blown over the people, and after a few minutes everyone begins to scream. They are being torn apart from the inside by the Chlorine atoms in the air. "Why have you forsaken us, God!" they cry out._

_And then, silence. _

The Medic screamed out in terror at the visions in his head. He jumped up, not ready for his past to repeat itself.

"Ich werde nicht Sie sterben lassen!" He cried out, reaching into his jacket. The man pulled out a stainless steel bone saw. He quickly drew a gas mask from his pocket, and covered his mouth. He was going to break through that door one way or another.

The man whispered a prayer as he drew his bone saw back. He then let out a cry as he shoved the saw and his fist towards the door, slicing it like it was butter. He then cut a hole in the door so he could unlock the door. The man dropped the saw, and clicked the lock open.

He pushed through the door, and used his other hand to shield his eyes from the gas. He quickly scanned the room for his friend, and saw him lying on the ground, face down. Mikhail was holding a note in one hand, while cradling Sasha with the other.

_Even as he's going to die, he still protects his gun. He's either really dedicated, or really insane. _

The Medic remembered how long it must have been in there for Heavy, and swiftly moved to pull him out of the room. Even if the Medic had been at full health, Heavy's weight was just too much for him to carry alone.

He knew if he didn't get Heavy some medical attention soon, he'd be gone forever. He did not want that to happen.

"Anybody! Please help me! I need some assistance!" The man cried out, hoping that maybe a team mate was nearby or within shouting distance. But nobody responded, leaving Medic by himself.

The man had tears streaming down his face. He could feel the gas was beginning to permeate his medical gas mask.

"I vill do vatever it takes to save you!" He cried out, lifting up Heavy's arm.

The Medic didn't know this, but Mikhail was still somewhat conscious for this event. The man had no control over his voice or his muscles, so he was of no help to the Medic. But he did hear what the man had to say.

_Doctor... Why do you try so hard to help the man who has injured you?_ Heavy thought, his vision blurred from the gas. He could feel the Medic was dragging him, despite being 3 times the Medic's weight. Heavy immediately lost consciousness from exhaustion as the Medic had pulled him to the door.

The Medic pulled Mikhail down the hallway, reaching an area that was free from the fumes. The Medic attempted to pull Mikhail down the stairs, to the medic bay. But as the Medic prepared to gently ease him down the stairs, his body gave out. He collapsed to the ground, the force of gravity sending him down the stairs.

The sound of the Medic falling down the stairs sent his team mates rushing out from their rooms. They all surrounded the Medic, confused by what had happened. Some of them feared the worst when the realized Heavy was nowhere in sight.

But before any of them jumped to conclusions, the Medic reached for the stairs. He was attempting to crawl back up to Mikhail and let everyone know he was there. But when he moved his arm, jolts of pain were sent through his body. He curled up into a fetal position, and allowed himself to cry.

_They don't know that he's up there... He'll die if no one gets to him... Someone please help him... _The Medic thought. He tried to form the words, but the pain was so intense that all the could be said was a gurgling cry.

"Oh dear god... He is a wreck... One of you, help him get to the infirmary." The Spy said, shaking his head. The man had never thought Heavy would go so far as to hurt his own team mate. "Someone come with me to help find Heavy. He must be stopped."

The Medic knew something like that would happen. The Red Soldier helped to pick him up, along with the Scout. The Medic tried to fight them, trying to get them to let him go and help Mikhail.

"Mikhail!" The Medic cried out, finding the courage to shape the words. "Help... Help him!"

The Spy gave a look to the Medic, and walked up the stairs that the Medic came from. He was followed by the Pyro and Demoman.

"Dear god!" The Spy cried out upon finding Mikhail's body. "Engineer, Sniper, come help carry Heavy!"

Upon hearing the men discover Heavy's body, the Medic became relieved. He allowed the fatigue to set in, and let himself be carried by his friends.

_Thank you God... Thank you for saving him. _

((Author's note: Ahhh, what a short chapter! But this is really only because I want the next chapter to focus on Mikhail's story. The next chapter will be longer, I promise. Again, I feel like I may have rushed it, but I believe it's because my last chapter was so long, so I feel I needed something short to balance it out.

I'd also like to note how much I appreciate the reviews you guys give me. :D I never thought my poor writing could ever elicit so many responses from people. It makes me feel amazing to hear people tell me they were affected by what I wrote, and it gives me hope for my future as a writer. So thank you guys for being such fantastic human beings.

Translation party!

Mein freund = My friend

Ich werde nicht Sie sterben lassen! = I will not let you die!

Okay guys, see you next chapter!))


	4. Halo

Mikhail woke up an hour later, unsure of whether he had lived through the ordeal or not. He tried to get up, to see where he was, but was immediately stopped by a thin, gloved hand. Mikhail turned his head to see Sniper was the one holding him back.

"Easy there, mate. Sarge told me to keep an eye on you." The man said, pushing Mikhail back down. The Russian sighed, letting his body fall back onto the mattress.

"So... I am alive..." Mikhail whispered, looking up into the gray ceiling. He clenched his right fist, remembering he had written a note to whoever found him. He figured Medic had brought him here, so he must be the one who had it.

_Crazy doctor... He still wanted to help after suffering a broken rib... _

Mikhail turned his head to look around the room, and noticed another bed just a short distance away from him. Whoever was on the bed was in bad condition, as evidenced by the heart monitor that rested next to the bed. Not only were they on the heart monitor but they also had the machine with Kritzkrieg medicine hooked up to them. They certainly had been through a lot.

Mikhail tried to squint and see who was on the bed, but they were facing the opposite direction, so he only saw the shape of the person's body. They were in a fetal position, and they clung to the sheets like a child.

_Where have I seen something that looked like that before? Unless..._

"Sniper? Where had doctor gone?" Mikhail asked.

Sniper frowned, and tipped his chin in the direction of the bed. "Yer lookin' at him, buddy." The man said, pointing Mikhail in the direction of the bed. Mikhail turned slowly to look at the huddled mass on the other bed, and furrowed his brow.

_No... It can't be the Medic. He was perfectly fine when I fell unconscious. How could he have gotten so hurt in such a short time? _Mikhail questioned, staring at the bed in a mix of disbelief and sorrow.

"How could this happen? Doktor..." Mikhail asked, trying to comprehend everything.

"He's in pretty bad shape, mate. He tripped down some stairs tryin' ta get ya out of that mess back there. He hit his 'ead pretty hard, broke a few ribs." Sniper said, recounting the events that occurred an hour ago. "Musta gone loopy, cause he kept fighting us hooking him up to the machines. The guy didn't rest until you came in safe n' sound." Sniper said, putting his gloved hand on Mikhail's shoulder.

Mikhail grimaced, imagining the broken, bruised Medic fighting their help. He could hear the man's painful cries to focus on helping Heavy in his head.

"_Dummkopfs! Help him first, zen help me, I vill be fine. He needs full attention!" _

Tears came to Mikhail's eyes as he imagined it. He heard the voice, surprisingly urgent despite being so broken and pained. It was all too much to deal with. A man who only knew the beginning of his childhood story was fighting to save his life.

He turned his head away from Sniper, not wanting to seem like he was weak.

"So what happens now? What becomes of me and doktor?" Mikhail asked, avoiding Sniper's vision.

The Sniper shrugged, and sat down in his chair. He pulled a magazine out of his pocket, and opened it up to the first page.

"You're under suicide watch, mate. They want you within eyesight at all times, or else we sic the scouts on ya." The Sniper said, trying to add a bit of humor to the situation to cheer up Mikhail. It didn't work very well. The Sniper coughed, and continued. "As for the Medic we don't know when he'll come to. Could be a few minutes, could be days. All we know is that he keeps havin' these terrible nightmares, and when that happens his heart rate skyrockets. We gotta give 'im some of this sedative to cool him down if that happens."

Mikhail nodded slowly, understanding the severity of Medic's condition. Head trauma was nothing to bat an eyelash at, he knew from experience. He'd seen guys get bashed in the head with something and if they didn't drop dead from the force of the brain hitting the skull, they died from a terrible seizure of some kind.

It wasn't the kind of thing someone would want to go out of their way to see.

Mikhail looked up to see Sniper reading his magazine. It was something for hunters, probably a catalog of weapons and whatnot. The man seemed to be eying it veraciously, like he was dying for the thing he was looking at.

Mikhail sat up slowly, to which Sniper looked up from his catalog. He went to stand up and stop him, when Mikhail lifted up his hands defensively.

"I want to talk to Medic." Mikhail said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The Sniper nodded, and grabbed his chair. He opened the door, and placed the chair in direct line of sight of the only exit. He would allow Heavy to have his private chat with the Medic, while also making sure he did his job right.

"I'll be out 'ere if ya need me mate." The Sniper reinforced, to which Mikhail just nodded.

He stood up slowly, allowing his body time to adjust to standing up. He lumbered over to the doctor, and just stood over him. He rested his hand on Medic's, and looked down solemnly. He felt like he was visiting someone on their deathbed.

Well that's what it looked like to Mikhail.

He felt just sickened by the amount of damage that had been done to Medic's body, and quite guilty. If he hadn't of been so selfish, the Medic probably would not have been in the situation he was in now. Mikhail felt the tears well up in his eyes. He gripped the medic's hand just as he began to cry.

"I am sorry... friend." Mikhail said gently. He gasped when he felt the Medic's grip tighten, and looked into the Medic's face. The Medic was simply suffering from another nightmare, and Mikhail had to inject him with a sedative to relax him.

He hurried to the box of sedative, and quickly grabbed as many as he could hold in his hand. Mikhail hastily stabbed one into the side of the Medic's neck, having a calming effect on the man after a few minutes. The man's body relaxed, but he kept clinging to his sheets as if he was a child.

"Oh doctor... I am sorry. You were right. I was hiding story from you. But I tell you now." Mikhail said, walking away from the Medic to get a chair so he could sit next to Medic and tell him the rest of his childhood story. He sat down next to the Medic's bed, and placed his large hand in the Medic's small, slender hand.

_He has hands like a child's... He even curls them up in sleep like a child... M_ikhail observed, feeling strangely upset by Medic's childishness at the moment.

"Well, this story begins where last one ends... With me in Russia on the streets..." Mikhail began, leaning slightly into the bed to get close to the Medic's face.

Years ago...

"What are you doing out here so late, little boy?" A small, thin man asked, holding a metal pole in his hands. The pole was thick, probably strong enough to take down a large bear if swung hard enough.

And yet that man wasn't facing off against a large bear, he was standing before a thirteen year old boy. A thirteen year old homeless boy, who was simply lying in an empty dumpster. The boy was hungry and terrified, seeing as this was only his second night as a homeless kid.

"I have nowhere else to go. I live out here." The boy said simply, hoping the man would have the decency to leave the hungry boy alone.

That wasn't the case, as a few men surrounded the boy, all of them with different weapons on them. Mikhail was easily outnumbered, and outmatched in the weapons department. All the boy had was a set of padded gloves that he figured could work as boxing gloves.

"Yeah, well this is our turf, boy. So you best get along and find somewhere else to stay." The men cackled with laughter. Mikhail couldn't help but feel there was some similarity between this group and the kids at school.

They continued on laughing, as Mikhail grew increasingly more frustrated with the group. They all howled like hyenas, and poked fun at the overweight boy. They called him all kinds of names, and prodded him with their different makeshift weapons. One man poked him in the back with a pole from a wrought iron fence, causing him to yelp in pain.

Mikhail growled in frustration, and clenched his fists. He put them up to his face, taking a fighting stance. He knew he was outnumbered, and he knew that those people were adults, but he was willing to do whatever it took to protect himself.

The group laughed even harder. "What are ya gonna do little boy? Beat me up with your fists? I bet you couldn't even land one hit!" The man called out, causing more laughter from the group. The man jabbed him lightly with the pole, pushing him back slightly.

"C'mon little boy, hit me, I dare ya! Use those meaty fists for something other than stuffing your face."

Mikhail roared in anger at the taunt, and swung his fists at the man. Both fists connected with his face, and a sickening crack could be heard. The man's jaw had broken from the force of the first punch, and the second had pushed it far out of place. The man dropped his pole, and fell to the ground screaming in agony.

That was the rest of the group's cue to step in, and they began swinging at Mikhail with their makeshift weapons. One man actually managed to hit Mikhail in the back, but within a few moments Mikhail had punched the man in the gut, knocking him to the ground. Mikhail turned to his side, and grabbed the weapon the next man was holding.

He picked the man up off the ground, and flung him into the wall. He then used the metal to swing at the rest of the group, effectively drawing them back. They all ran off, picking up the bodies of those injured before leaving.

Mikhail grinned evilly and dropped the metal. From behind him, he heard the sound of clapping. The boy turned around swiftly, and saw a sharply dressed man.

"Who are you?" Mikhail asked, holding up his fists to the man.

The man held up his hands, and smiled.

"Easy, child. I am here to offer you a great opportunity." The man said.

Mikhail lowered his fist, and gave the man an inquisitive look.

"What do I got to do?" Mikhail asked, to which the man walked over to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

"I'll explain all of that later. But first, let me take you out for something to eat." The man said, to which Mikhail brightened up. He hadn't eaten anything besides the trash he could find in the garbage since he had left home. His stomach growled, to which the man chuckled.

"It's been a while since you've eaten real food?" He asked. Mikhail nodded, rubbing his stomach.

"Two days." Mikhail said, holding up two fingers for emphasis.

The man seemed surprised at his words. "Two days without food? Well then I'd better bring you to the finest eatery in all of Russia." The said with a grin, herding Mikhail out of the alleyway.

Mikhail was frowning. He knew he wouldn't be able to pay for food from any restaurant, definitely not one labeled as the finest restaurant in Russia. When he went to voice his concerns, the man raised a finger to silence him.

"Now, I know what you are thinking, but do not worry. The food is absolutely free. Think of it as... a gift from a friend."

Mikhail nodded, a bit unsure about everything. What was this guy's angle? What did he want with a dirty little street rat like himself? Something had to be up, and Mikhail wasn't so sure about it.

After a few minutes of walking, they had reached a building with no outdoor lights on. The place was dark and spooky looking, something that irked Mikhail. They walked inside the pitch black building, and into a smaller dark room.

_This is the greatest restaurant in all of Russia?_ Mikhail wondered, trying to adjust his eyes to the lack of light.

After a minute or so, the room filled with light, causing Mikhail to jump. He looked around the room after the initial shock wore off, and found the place to be strangely bare. There was simply a table and a few chairs, along with two doors that led to different places. Mikhail assumed one led to the kitchen, while the other he wasn't so sure of.

"Please, sit down. What is it that you want to eat? I can have them make you anything you want." The man said, sitting on the chair on the other side of the table. Mikhail nodded, and sat on the chair directly opposite the man. He thought for a moment, and shrugged.

"I don't know what I want. I'll eat anything, really." Mikhail said, feeling a little self-conscious. In reality, he knew he wanted to eat one of his mother's homemade sandwiches and one of her famous desserts. But he felt like this man was really classy, and to admit that he wanted something so juvenile seemed embarrassing.

The man chuckled, Mikhail noticed he seemed to do this often, and clapped his hands. Within seconds, a set of three chefs stood before the two. They all bowed before the man, and asked what they were summoned for.

"I want you to make this boy the most delicious meal of his life. I want you to make a delicious 7 course meal, with the most spectacular dessert this boy has ever experienced. Is that understood?" The man instructed. The chefs simply nodded, nervously Mikhail noted, and rushed back into the kitchen.

After they left, the two sat in silence for a little while. The man pulled out a bottle of wine, and poured some for himself, then offered the bottle to Mikhail. Mikhail put up his hands to protest, seeing as he was only 13 years old.

"No, thank you. I'm only thirteen, it wouldn't be right." Mikhail said, feeling even more self-conscious admitting that he was only 13. But the man waved his hand in the air.

"Age, it means nothing. Why don't you try living a little, huh?" The man asked, giving Mikhail a strangely inviting smile. Mikhail shrugged again, and accepted, taking the bottle. He filled up the glass that sat in front of him, and stared into the dark red liquid.

_It almost looks like blood... _

He swallowed his fear, and took a small sip. He looked surprised, as he realized the wine tasted no different than the grape juice he used to drink as a child. It had a slight burning feeling when it when down his throat, but overall it tasted and felt good. He sipped some more, trying to hold the glass like the classy man before him.

Another couple of minutes went by, and the first course of food was set on the table. Mikhail smiled hungrily at the food, seeing all of his favorites. There was all kinds of meat, like ham and chicken, and plenty of side dishes like potatoes, fresh baked bread, and mixed vegetables.

Mikhail gave a look to the man, wondering if it was okay if he began to eat. The man simply smiled and nodded, which made Mikhail smile. He picked up his fork and knife, and began digging into the food. He cut out slices of the ham and chicken, and layered them onto his plate. He took a spoonful of potatoes, and then grabbed a piece of the bread. He made a makeshift sandwich with the piece of bread, and after getting it all organized, he took a huge bite.

At this point he didn't care if the man saw him eat like a pig or if he saw him make sandwiches out of the fine cuisine before him. He was so hungry, and all he could think of was the food before him.

The man chuckled once more, and grinned at the sight of Mikhail. He had him right where he wanted him now.

"So, child. I suppose you'd like to know why you're here." The man said simply, leaning back in his chair. Mikhail nodded, stuffing his face with the sandwich he had made.

"Well, you see I am no ordinary man. I run a very powerful... business here." The man said, pausing to see if Mikhail was keeping up. Mikhail was, and simply nodded to the man, looking up from his food for a moment to make eye contact.

"Now, running a business is pretty hard. It takes a lot of people to make a business successful. And in my business, good people are very hard to come by." The man said, lacing his fingers together. Mikhail nodded, knowing how his father struggled to run his business back when Mikhail was younger.

"So you see I often have to find my ...employees... by myself. I could not trust just any employee to do something so tricky. If I see someone on the street who looks like they need help and can help me out I come along and ...rescue them." The man said, trying to give the young boy the hint. Mikhail stopped eating and looked up at the man.

"So are you saying you want to hire me?" Mikhail asked. The man smiled and nodded.

"Yes, that is exactly it... Will you do it?" The man asked.

"But, you don't even know my name. I don't even know your name. How can you know that you want to hire me?" Mikhail asked, questioning the validity of all of this. Why would a stranger just come out of the blue and ask Mikhail for help without knowing who he was?

The man coughed, and then chuckled. He held up his hands, as if asking Mikhail for forgiveness.

"Please, excuse my rudeness. My name is Vladmir. What is your name?" Vladmir asked, giving a sly smile to the boy.

"My name is Heavy. Heavy weapons guy." Mikhail said, giving the man a fake name, just in case things didn't go over well.

Vladmir chuckled at the name. "The name is fitting, I suppose. Hello there, Heavy."

"Well then, Heavy, do we have a deal?" Vladmir asked, holding out his hand for Mikhail to shake. But Mikhail frowned. He took a bite from his sandwich and shook his head.

"What exactly do you do here? I'd like to know what I'm getting into before I make deals with strangers." Mikhail said, feeling a little wary of this shady man. His name even sounded shady. Vladmir seemed like a name that would be given to a villain in one of his radio shows that he loved to listen to.

_Certainly wouldn't be the name of a savior like he claims to be..._ Mikhail thought. He was glad to have been fed, since he always thought better on a full stomach.

"Well, what we do is a little different from most organizations. See, we run a lending service, like a bank, in which we'll let people borrow money and after a certain amount of time we request our money back. We also offer a kind of ...bodyguard service for those who need it. You see, we are a group who care about the people. The government, they don't care for us. You see, they'd rather have us all live like I found you: Cold and alone in the streets. They want no one to have the power and money but themselves. My business helps to combat those evil forces." The man said with a charming smile.

Mikhail still seemed a little wary about the offer. He took another sip of wine, and another bite of the sandwich. He made a few noises as if he was thinking over the offer, just to see how Vladmir would respond.

"Heavy, think about it: You will be the hero of the people. You won't have to live on the streets, fearing whether you'll wake up in the morning. You'll have access to food and shelter all the time, and you'll always be protected. Nothing can stop you, nothing can stop us!" Vladmir said, painting the image in Mikhail's mind.

The boy thought about all the things he said, and smiled. He would love to be considered a hero, and the idea of having security was also a great idea too. Plus having a steady source of income could be good for him, seeing as his next option would be to work in a factory where the likelihood of him leaving with all of his limbs were slim.

"I could have power, in this business?" Mikhail asked, feeling slightly interested.

Vladmir smiled, and nodded. "You will have tons of power, my child. All you have to do is accept my offer." The man held out his hand, waiting for Mikhail to accept it.

The man felt like he couldn't lose. He knew he had hooked Mikhail with the idea of food and shelter, but now he was sure he couldn't lose him with the added idea of power.

Mikhail thought it over. After a moment or two, he grinned and grabbed the man's hand. "You've got a deal Vladmir."

Vladmir smiled evilly, just as the chefs brought out the dessert. It was a small chocolate cake, made just for Mikhail. Mikhail's eyes brightened at the cake, and the boy dug into it without giving a second glance to the man.

"Welcome to the Russian Mafia, Heavy."

_A few weeks later..._

_This is not the kind of power that I wanted... _Mikhail thought, as he wrapped a long sheet around a woman's neck. He tightened it, causing her to cry out and choke. Mikhail silenced her with his large fist, and worked to strangle her fast. He knew if he was strangling her for too long the civilians might get suspicious.

"_If you get caught, you WILL be punished severely. Not only by the government, but by me as well. So don't fail me." _Vladmir had said to him when he first trained him. The man had shown him how to take out low level "enemies" of the organization by using what god had given him. Basically his own bare hands and anything he could pick up from the surrounding area.

He wouldn't be allowed to use guns until he gained some rank in the organization. Once he had proved he could handle tasks utilizing his bare hands they'd give him a weapon special for him. They said that had something in their reserves just for him, something no other member had been man enough to use.

He dropped the body of the woman to the ground, and hurried to find the quickest way out. He didn't get any kind of debriefing of the building before this mission; they had said it was a "last second thing". So Mikhail was pretty much at a loss when it came to getting out.

Mikhail turned the corner, searching for the door that would lead out of the woman's house. He opened every door, hoping the next one would lead him away from the scene of the crime. When he came to the third door, he threw it open and saw a group of sleeping kids inside. There were three in total, a set of twin boys and a little girl in a crib. The nameplate on the crib read "Natascha", while the boy's beds were written illegibly.

Mikhail frowned, and attempted to leave the room, when a small voice stopped him.

"Mama?"

It was the little girl. She was standing up in her crib, her little hands curling over the wood bars. Mikhail looked into her small chocolate brown eyes, and practically melted. She was a beautiful child, and it hurt Mikhail knowing that he just killed the only person that she wanted right then. He may have killed the only person whose name she could actually pronounce.

He walked into the room, and looked down at the little girl. She smiled up at him, and made a motion as if she wanted to be lifted up. Mikhail accepted her demands, and lifted the little girl. She giggled softly, as he bounced her gently on his large arms. Mikhail felt tears welling up in his eyes, as the little girl went to give him a hug. He hugged her back, and then placed her back in her crib.

"Rest, child. You will see your mama soon." Mikhail told her quietly, to which she laid back down. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked on it gently, awaiting her mother's arrival.

Mikhail wiped away the tears in his eyes, but more came as he looked down to the twins lying in bed. The woman had been poor, living in a one bedroom apartment with her three children. The children were given the bedroom, while she was forced to sleep in the living room on the couch.

Mikhail gently brushed against the cheeks of both boys, before quickly snapping their necks. The kill was almost instant, with very minimal pain involved for the young boys. They both wore expressions of peaceful sleep on their faces, something that almost comforted Mikhail. He turned back to the little girl, who had sat up after hearing Mikhail kill her brothers. She didn't understand it, but she was confused and scared. The little girl cried out, to which Mikhail frowned at. He couldn't help himself from crying now, hearing the small girl's tiny sobs.

"Please, don't cry Natascha. Everything will be fine." Mikhail said, gently brushed his hand against the girl's cheek. She stopped her bawling, but she continued to sniffle, up until Mikhail picked her up again. The little girl wrapped her tiny arms around Mikhail's neck, sniffling into his shoulder.

Mikhail gave her a hug back, and made a quick motion to snap her neck from behind. He laid the little girl down in bed, and tucked her in. He wiped away his tears, and turned away from the room.

"I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." He said, hoping that the spirits of those that he just killed could hear him.

The 13 year old boy then ran out of the room, running towards the last door in the apartment that led outside. He slammed the door shut, not giving a damn about the rules that Vladmir had set up for him.

"_The number one rule: Do NOT make your presence obvious for everyone around. Do not show remorse. Never let a single emotion take you over. Leave nothing behind." _

He had just about broken all of those rules, and he knew if Vladmir found out he'd get a beating for sure. He was still healing from the beating he got for questioning their organization within the first week of his being there.

"_How can you go about doing things like this? Aren't we supposed to be helping the people? We are no better than the government we claim to fight!" _

_I kill people because they are against what happens in this organization. I kill people because they don't pay us back. I kill people because THEY tell me to. ...What am I doing? _Mikhail wondered, as he ran through the streets. He intended on getting back to the base before Vladmir could find out what happened, or anyone for that matter.

**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!**

The Medic's heart monitor cried out as the Medic suffered through another nightmare induced seizure. Mikhail jumped at the sudden sound of the machine, and the Medic's sudden jerking movements. He took one of the syringes in his fist and stabbed it into the Medic's neck. The man calmed down almost instantly, but instead of taking his fetal position on the bed he laid out flat.

Mikhail panicked, thinking something had went wrong. Mikhail touched the Medic's face, and went to shake his shoulders lightly to make sure he was still alive in there. He turned to go get the Sniper, to hopefully help figure out what he had done wrong.

But as he turned he heard a gentle coughing. Mikhail turned to see that the Medic coughing into his fist. The man shook with every cough, despite how gentle the coughs were.

Mikhail sighed with relief and went back over to his friend. "It is good to see you okay, doktor." He said, giving the man a small smile.

The Medic sat up, and rested against the wall the bed was leaning against. He looked around, and noticed that Heavy was standing up beside his bed. He tried to get up, but Mikhail held him back.

"No, doktor. You can not get up. You are too hurt for that." Mikhail said, gently pushing the Medic back into his bed. "Do you want food? I go get you what you want."

The Medic looked at him confused for a moment, but simply smiled and shook his head. "Danke herr Heavy, I am fine."

Mikhail nodded, and sat back down on his chair next to the Medic. Mikhail wanted to put his hand back in the Medic's, but felt it would be too awkward for him to do so when the man was awake. The medic would probably get freaked out by it anyways.

"But, can you do me one favor?" The Medic asked, turned his head to look towards Mikhail.

Mikhail frowned and raised his eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Can you finish zat story for me?"

Mikhail smiled at the man's request to finish telling his story, and he simply nodded.

"Is not much left to story, but okay. Three years went by before they trust me enough to handle weapons. It made the name 'Heavy Weapons Guy' truth. I was told to go to the house of man named Gregori Faustin." Mikhail said, recalling exactly what had happened that day.

"Faustin... But vait, zat vas...! Karina!" The Medic said, almost jumping up at the realization. The man calmed down, after the heart monitor gave him a warning. Mikhail chuckled at the Medic's enthusiasm for the story.

"Yes. But I did not know then. I had forgotten the name. I had forgotten until I saw her again, after 3 years..."

_Years ago..._

Mikhail had successfully taken out the entire family, like he had been instructed. He had taken out the father first, then went to the mother, then the sons. Everyone in the house was dead, save for the rats that were hiding in the wall.

But something didn't seem right to Mikhail. It was like he was forgetting something about this house. It was like he had seen it somewhere before, like he was experiencing deja vu. He shrugged it off, and moved to clean himself off before he headed back to the mafia base.

Mikhail had gotten to the bathroom of the house, and prepared to clean up when he heard something from somewhere in the house. He stopped doing everything to listen for it, and discovered it was a person.

_I left someone alive? Who else was there to kill? _ Mikhail questioned, as he silently left the bathroom. He followed the sound, which was of a woman singing, all the way up the stairs in right outside of the attic. There was someone hiding out in the attic, someone that he couldn't just leave alone.

The man took a moment to pray, something he found himself doing right before he went in for a kill, and pulled out his shotgun. He went to grab the door handle, but noticed that the room was locked by a chain lock.

_How odd... Did they do this when they heard me? No... That can't be possible to do that. So what is this? _Mikhail tried to figure out how the door got to be chained up. He shrugged, and smashed the barrel of his gun on the lock, breaking it into pieces. He threw the door open, and scanned the area quickly for the person.

A blonde haired girl was sitting there on a rocking chair, staring out of a barred glass window. She jumped when she heard the lock come off, but her gaze went from fearful to joy when she remembered the face of the gun carrying male before her.

"Mikhail!" The girl cried out, jumping up. She ran up to him, and wrapped her arms around him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was covered in blood and carrying a shotgun. Mikhail just stared in confusion at the smaller girl. She was giggling happily and squeezing him tight.

"I knew you'd come and help me Mikhail. I just knew it. They said I had no one to help me, but I knew they were wrong." The girl said, starting to cry. Mikhail's eyes widened as he remembered why this place seemed so familiar.

"Ka...Karina?" He asked, knowing full well what her response was. The girl nodded, and wiped her eyes on her arms.

Mikhail couldn't believe that a ghost from his past was coming back to haunt him.

"Karina, what happened to you? Wait, why would you need someone to help you?" Mikhail asked, pushing the girl away slightly to look into her face. She was just as beautiful as he had remembered, even with the dirt caking her hair and body.

Karina smiled, as the tears fell down her face. She wiped them away, but kept smiling. "My family, they kept me up here for months, maybe even years. I don't really remember how long it has been. But my father kept me locked up here, and I told him everyday that I knew someone who must be looking for me. He said I was crazy, and that you'd gone crazy too. But I knew he was wrong." Karina said, running back to him as she cried. Mikhail reluctantly wrapped his arms around the girl, but still felt a little irked by the whole situation.

"Mikhail, I have been waiting for you to come back ever since you left years ago. When you ran off from school they emptied your locker, and I managed to save the few things left. I found your jacket, and your books, and I've been keeping them close to me when I've been scared. I figured keeping something of yours would make you get the hint that I needed you." The blonde girl said. "Did you get the message?"

Mikhail did his best to smile, and nodded for the girl. He didn't have the heart to tell her she sounded like she was insane, nor did he have the heart to tell her what he has been doing for the past three years. Karina made a move like she was about to speak again, when Mikhail placed a finger to her mouth.

"Karina, I've been waiting for you for years too. In fact, I fell in love with you when I met you around 4 years ago. But you should know that you and I can't be together. You and I are just different people now. You wouldn't be able to love what I have become."

((Author's note: Okay, so I kinda really made this chapter long. I wanted it to be longer, and actually finish Heavy's long ass life story, but alas I did not want you all to suffer the massive headaches of having to read so much. So the next chapter will be the continuation (and basically the end) of Heavy's story. Maybe I'll even get to include some of Medic's life in there as well.

So next chapter expect:

The end of Heavy's sad story

A bit of Medic's story

Medic's name!

Who knows how I may feel at the time of writing. XD So anyways, thanks for reading! See you all next chapter. :D))


	5. Read My Mind

{{Dear readers,

I apologize for the extremely late update. We only just got internet at my house yesterday, and I spent all that time trying to clean up this chapter for you. Please don't hate me, because I love you all. Thanks for still reading, you guys are epic.

Love, Delicious Caek 3 }}

"It's not easy to love the rose." Karina said, resting her arm on Mikhail's shoulder. She smiled gently at him. "Do you remember? It takes a special person to love the rose." Karina said, moving closer to the 17 year old boy. She gave him an innocent smile, and leaned in closer.

"I could be that person, Mikhail. I'm not afraid of getting stuck." She whispered, leaning up to kiss Mikhail. He allowed her to kiss him, but pushed her off gently after a few minutes. Karina just stared at him in disbelief.

"Karina, you don't want to be with me. You may not be afraid, but I am. What I've become is nothing compared to the boy you fell in love with." Mikhail said, turning away from her. He remembered why he had come here, and shook his head. He began to walk out of the room and down the stairs, when Karina grabbed his arm.

"Please Mikhail, don't leave me. You are all that I've had during these dark times. I don't want to go back to this dreadful life." She said, her smile fading. She was desperate to leave this home, and the law was on her side if she was going with a man that she loved.

Mikhail turned to look at her apathetically. "I don't think your family will be a problem anymore." Mikhail said, turning back to walk down the stairs. He walked away despite Karina's protests, causing her to follow him down the stairs to discover what had happened to her family.

"Oh my god..." Karina gasped, seeing her brothers, mother and father lying on the ground dead. Mikhail stood there, staring into the carpet that had been stained with blood.

"Mikhail... Did... Did you kill them?" She asked, looking up at him with terror in her eyes. Though her family had been cruel to her, she had never wished for them all to die. She also was a little more shocked that Mikhail had been capable of killing so many people.

Mikhail simply nodded, and then returned her gaze with a solemn look. Karina's terrified face was all he saw, to which he sighed.

"I told you that you wouldn't be able to love what I have become."

Karina looked from her slaughtered family to Mikhail, and then back again. She didn't know what to say to him, nor did she know whether to comfort him or run away screaming. Clearly, he seemed a little upset at what he had to do, but she was too concerned over whether she was next or not.

After a few moments, Mikhail turned to walk away. He knew he should have just run off when he found out it was her. He was almost to the front door, when Karina's gentle touch stopped him. He turned around to face her, and was greeted by her tear-stained smiling face.

"The rose is the hardest flower to love. But not for me." Karina said, reaching up to kiss Mikhail.

The Medic wiped his eyes at Mikhail's words. After all that had happened, it seemed his story was coming to a semi-happy ending.

"Even after all zat occurred, she still loved you! Oh, das ist wunderbar mein Heavy friend!" The medic said, reaching out to touch Mikhail's hand. Mikhail smiled, and turned his head away. He tried to take his hand away from the Medic's, but the man gripped his hand tight. Mikhail looked up at the Medic, to which the man simply smiled at him.

"Da, is very good. But story not end so happily, doktor. We try to stay together, but Vladmir pull us apart. I try to hide her from him, but he found out. He got older men to take Karina away. I try to save her, but Vladmir sends all of mob after me." Mikhail said, looking up into the bright florescent light on the ceiling.

The Medic frowned. "Vell, vhat happened next? How did you escape?" He asked, his eyes filled with anticipation and excitement. Mikhail looked into his eyes and chuckled lightly.

_This man acts like a kid being told an exciting bedtime story. This is so terribly funny, yet so... adorable. _Mikhail thought, finding the Medic's child-like excitement for his life story amusing.

"Doktor, I have one question." Mikhail asked.

The Medic calmed down a bit and gave him a questioning look. He said nothing in response, allowing the look on his face to be his response.

"You work for Red team for years, da?" Mikhail asked, as a lead up to his real question.

The Medic nodded in response, and loosened his grip on Mikhail's hand. "Yes, Mikhail. I have vorked for zis team for many years. Vhy do you ask?"

"Because all this time I know you, I never know your name. I know names of everyone else on this team, other than you. Well you and Pyro, but that is different story."

The Medic blinked a few times at Mikhail's words, before looking away embarrassed. He felt a little awkward and embarrassed to admit what his real name was, and for all the years he worked for Red he was so glad no one had ever asked for it.

"So, you vant to know my name, is zat correct?" The Medic asked, making sure he was getting the question right. The man tried to release Mikhail's hand from his own, but it was now Mikhail's turn to keep holding onto the Medic's hand tight. Mikhail gave a quick smirk, as if telling the Medic that he wasn't escaping the question so easily.

"Yes. I want to know your name." Mikhail repeated.

The Medic looked down at his hand in Mikhail's, and chuckled. He wasn't going to be able to get out of this, and he wasn't going to be able to lie to him. The Medic just couldn't lie to a person if they were physically touching him, because he would tense up wherever they were touching. Mikhail would easily detect whatever lie he gave.

_Time to confess, Sascha. _The Medic told himself, shaking his head slowly.

"All right, you vin Mikhail. My name is Sascha. Sascha Lebrecht." The Medic said, blushing very faintly in embarrassment. When he came to America, he was often teased for his feminine name, or the way it sounded feminine to anyone outside of Germany and a few other select European countries.

Mikhail looked at the Medic in a funny way. "Sascha? Your name is Sascha, doktor?" Mikhail asked, wondering if he heard wrong.

The Medic nodded, refusing to look at Mikhail. He had a feeling the man was either about to laugh or making a funny expression over his name. It was the reason he liked when people just called him Medic. It was hard to be taken seriously as a man named Sascha, especially in this time.

"Yes, but it's not spelled ze same as your Sasha. Zis name is supposed to be male in my country." The embarrassed man said, giving a defensive glare to the wall opposite him. He still refused to look at Mikhail, feeling like the other man was going to laugh at him.

Mikhail simply nodded, and looked at the spot that Sascha was looking at. The man seemed so embarrassed over something so trivial as a name.

"Da, it can be male in my country as well. Not very common, but it can be used." Mikhail said, shrugging. He couldn't understand why the doctor would be so afraid of his own name.

_It's not like his name is synonymous with something terrible. It's actually quite... nice for a man like him._

"Sascha, your name means something, yes?" Mikhail asked, hoping to make the other man feel a little more comfortable. Sascha, however, flinched when Mikhail uttered his name aloud. He looked around to make sure that no one was within earshot.

"Yes. It means 'defender of mankind'." Sascha said, feeling so very weird being called by his name. No one had called him Sascha is quite a while, seeing as he hadn't had any contact with his family since he left Germany years ago.

Mikhail smiled softly, and looked down at Sascha's hand. The man was wearing his red rubber gloves over his white medical coat. Mikhail often wondered how the man could stand to wear so many layers inside the often warm Red team building.

"Is very fitting then. You are doktor, you help mankind. Why do you feel such shame?" Mikhail asked, hoping that Medic would take the compliment.

Sascha frowned, and shook his head. He chuckled low under his breath, and finally looked up to Mikhail. He had a serious look in his eyes, but his mouth was curled up into a smirk.

"Mikhail, you don't understand. If you knew ze HALF of it, you vould not feel ze same. My name is not fitting, it never vas."

Mikhail returned Medic's gaze with one of equal seriousness. "Just try me, doktor." He said, challenging him to tell him the half of it, at the very least.

Sascha could see what Mikhail was getting at, but he still shook his head. "My story is too much. Zhe horrors zat I have vitnessed, zhey are too much to retell. I am sorry, Herr Heavy."

The doctor leaned back against the wall, feeling a little worn out. His head was pounding, a fact that he hadn't noticed until then. He brought a gloved hand to his head, and let out a gentle groan of pain. He shut his eyes for a few moments, waiting until the pain in his head had gone down before reopening them.

Mikhail looked at Sascha, trying to assess the condition he was in. The man had broken out into a small sweat, brought on by the temperature of the room. Mikhail himself could feel himself ready to break out into a sweat from the heat. He stood up to look for the room's thermostat, finding it over in the corner of the room. He lowered it to around 65 degrees, and went back to his seat next to Sascha's bed.

Mikhail removed his vest and the belt of bullets from around his body, and placed them on the ground by his chair. He looked over at Sascha, who was practically sweating through his jacket. Mikhail shook his head.

"Doktor, you are warm, da? Take off jacket." Mikhail said, reaching to tug on Sascha's jacket sleeve.

Sascha simply pulled his arm away quickly, and shook his head. "Nein, Mikhail, I'm fine as I am. I don't need to take off my jacket." The doctor said, sitting in a defensive position, as if Mikhail had tried to hurt him or something.

Mikhail frowned, and noticed how much more Sascha was sweating. The physician once more felt another wave of head pain, and groaned again. He slunk back down onto the bed, going back into a lying position. He could feel himself growing fatigued from the pain in his head and the heat coming from his body.

Mikhail took this opportunity to grab Sascha's jacket and remove it. Sascha was wearing a white button up shirt under the jacket, with a red tie. Mikhail slowly went to remove the gloves, to which the weary Sascha protested. He was feeling pretty weak, but he gathered enough energy to evade Mikhail's large hands. Sascha brought his hand to his chest, covering it with the other hand and shaking his head.

Mikhail frowned, and reached for the doctor's hand. "Doktor, let me help. You need to cool down. Do not resist me." He said sternly, taking Sascha's hand.

The man was shaking his head, and talking into the pillow on the bed. Mikhail slowly began to remove the glove, to which Sascha began to cry faintly. He tried to pull his hand away, but he was just too fatigued to fight it.

Mikhail frowned as the glove came off. Sascha began flexing his hand in spasms, trying to stop the man from seeing what was on his hand. Mikhail grabbed firm hold of the other man's wrist so he could see what the black blur on his palm was. Upon closer inspection, the blur was actually a swastika tattoo.

Mikhail's expression changed momentarily from stern to surprise. But when he felt Sascha's eyes look to him he went back to his normal expression of apathy. He looked into Sascha's eyes, and pointed to the tattoo on his palm. It was like he was asking him if it was legitimate or not.

Sascha stopped muttering to himself and nodded sorrowfully. He had tears in his eyes, and he searched desperately for some sort of hope in Heavy's expression. But the man showed nothing more than apathy as he looked down at the sad medic. Sascha cried out as if in pain at the lack of any emotion on Mikhail's face. It physically hurt him, the lack of emotion in his friend's eyes.

_Please, do something other than look at me like that. Anything, please._

Mikhail simply dropped Sascha's hand, and shrugged lightly. He stood up, and stared down at the other man. Sascha took this as Mikhail being disgusted with him, and began to cry silently. Though this wasn't the first time someone had reacted that way, Sascha felt like this one was the worst of them all. Not only did he care about this man, but he had also admitted to Sascha his entire life story, a story that was pretty gruesome and heart-wrenching. And the man was disgusted with him.

Mikhail turned away, looking for something in one of the other areas of the room. He walked over there, leaving Sascha feeling even worse.

_You've driven another person away, Sascha. Can you ever hold a friendship that lasts more than a few hours? _The man shut his eyes, and went to curl up into a fetal position.

After a moment of searching, Mikhail came back, still wearing a look of nothingness. He reached out for Medic's hand, and stuck something over the ink. Sascha opened his eyes, and looked at his palm. He had placed a bandage over the tattoo, something that confused the weary physician. He gave Mikhail a weak look of hope, confusion, and sorrow, to which Mikhail smiled.

"We cover ugly painful wounds with bandage, da?" He asked. Sascha blinked a few times, and nodded slowly. Mikhail gave him an almost child-like grin, and leaned down. He wrapped his arms around the tired medic, making sure he was careful not to hug too tight.

"Da, no more pain for you Sascha. It is undeserved." He said softly as he held the other man in his arms. Sascha blushed softly at the way the other man was holding him, but smiled with relief after a moment. He found the strength to bring his arms up to return the hug, and used that strength to give Mikhail a powerful hug in return.

"Danke, Herr Heavy." He said to the other man.

Mikhail frowned playfully and pulled himself away slightly to look into Sascha's eyes.

"Formalities are for battlefield, Sascha. Use my name." Mikhail said, refusing to comfort him further until the man did as he said.

Sascha chuckled, and sighed. Mikhail's child-like attitude was just the thing he needed at that moment. "Zhank you, Mikhail."

Mikhail returned the chuckle with a hearty laugh, and leaned back in to give the doctor a full hug. Sascha simply allowed himself to be surrounded by the man's large, warm body, as he felt amazingly comfortable with it. Mikhail just had this comforting nature to him, something that almost embarrassed Sascha.

Sascha felt his eyes grow heavy with fatigue, and he yawned softly. Mikhail heard this and chuckled. He began to hum a classic Russian tune his mother used to hum to him when he was sleepy as a child, which made Medic even more sleepy.

Sascha wrapped his arms around Mikhail tight, as if trying to cling to him before he succumbed to sleep. He opened his eyes slowly, and looked up at Mikhail.

"Please don't leave me." Sascha said gently, before he leaned back against the pillow of the bed to sleep. After a few moments the man was out like a light, to which Mikhail smiled warmly at.

"I go nowhere Sascha. Do not worry." He said gently, as he let go of the man's body. He covered him up with the thin blanket, and grabbed another blanket just for some extra comfort. He then sat down on his chair next to the bed, and smiled.

He sat like that for a while, and let his mind wander. He thought about things like what Sniper must think is going on in here, and how the rest of the team was doing. He then chuckled, thinking about how the opposite team must have such a carefree life outside of battle, something that would compliment the Red team's hectic life.

Mikhail then looked questionably at Sascha, and began to think about him. All of the things that happened today, they were all so strange. He couldn't quite place what he was feeling towards that man, but he knew he had a general positive feeling towards him. He couldn't exactly be sure where he would put these feelings on an emotional scale. After all that man had done for him today, he just didn't know what sort of feelings he held.

All he knew was that he felt the strongest desire to ensure Sascha's safety. Sure his prime directive in battle was usually to keep his team mates safe, since he was defense, but this felt different than his typical feelings of keeping team mates safe. This feeling broke all the boundaries he had set for himself.

"I will keep you safe, Sascha. It is my word." Mikhail said, gently touching Sascha's head with his hand.

((Author's note: oh god, did I promise you guys a long chapter last chapter? Well, I lied. Sorry guys. I just didn't feel like delving into the Medic's story just yet. Though I assume you all got the idea of his past from that little bit with the tattoo.

Meh, I feel I may have gone into it very awkwardly, and the switch in Heavy's personality kind of seems off to me. I just couldn't think of any better way to write this chapter. I really wanted to get to Medic's story, but after thinking about it I held off. I kind of wanted to wait for possibly the next chapter to allow the Medic to tell his story. This one I just kind of wanted to be short and sweet. Like an introduction to the idea of Heavy opening up to medic. Also I really really really wanted to write a super kawaii scene with heavy and medic and that's what I did with this chapter. XP Don't judge my fangirlishness.

Anyways, I shall translate:

das ist wunderbar = That is wonderful

mein = my

Da = yes

Herr = man

Nein = no

So anyways, I suppose that's all for now. Please keep giving me your feedback on the story, I love it! See you next chapter guys!))


	6. Let You Down

The next morning Sascha awoke to see Mikhail sleeping the the chair next to the bed. He smiled down at the sleeping Heavy, and gently touched the other man's bald head. Mikhail barely reacted to the touch, making a small mumbling sound in his sleep when the other man touched his head. Sascha chuckled, and sat up fully in the bed.

_Better not wake him up. He must have had a terrible night's sleep in that chair. _Sascha told himself, noting that the plastic chair was also a little too small for Mikhail. It was an almost comical sight, really, seeing such a large man on such a small chair.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and hopped off. He had never realized just how high up the beds were until he had actually stayed in one. He shrugged the thought away, and took a step out of the door. He looked outside to see Sniper sitting in a chair, with a magazine draped over his face.

Sascha couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of the situation, seeing as a Sniper was supposed to be always alert. The Medic considered waking the man up, but reconsidered after noting that he two had slept in one of those uncomfortable folding chairs.

_He probably got better sleep than Mikhail though, since his body actually fits on the chair. _Sascha thought.

He went back into the room quietly and walked over to a light colored counter in the far side of the room. He opened the cabinet above the counter and pulled out a packet of instant oatmeal. He took out a bowl from the same cabinet, and filled it up with water.

Sascha ripped open the packet with his teeth, and poured the oatmeal into the bowl. He stirred up the mix with a spoon, and then moved to put the mixture into the microwave. He set the timer for three minutes, and leaned against the counter as he waited for his meal.

He always questioned the practicality of having a microwave in the medical bay, but he wasn't complaining. He actually enjoyed the luxury of not having to leave his post for food when he got hungry. It was also perfect for the times that he wanted to be alone, seeing as he could just lock himself in there and stay there for a while without discomfort.

The team rarely ever did anything together other than fight nowadays, something Sascha found troubling. He remembered the days when he first joined, and how close everyone was. The thirty-nine year old Medic shook his head, wondering just where the time had gone.

He ceased his daydreaming when he heard the beeping of the microwave. He carefully opened the microwave door, and grasped the sides of the bowl delicately so he would not burn himself. Sascha placed the bowl onto the counter, and placed the spoon he had used to mix it back into the hot mush. He blew on the top of the oatmeal, and waited another minute for it to cool.

As Sascha waited, he could hear the sounds of his team mates outside getting their morning duties accomplished. Or attempting to get their morning duties done. He could hear the Scout from upstairs complaining about how they never have any good food in the fridge, which got the Engineer to give the nineteen year old a lecture about how he had to be grateful for what he has.

Sascha chuckled at the little argument upstairs, feeling like the Scout was always a little too wound up for his own good.

"Must be zat Bonk energy drink zat he alvays has. Oh how I envy him." He said, staring into the mushy light brown oatmeal in front of him. He pulled the spoon out of it to check it's temperature, and stuck it in his mouth when he found it to be just right.

Sascha felt his stomach growl when the spoon entered his mouth. It made sense that he was so hungry, seeing as the last time he ate was before the mission yesterday. He had spent all that time trying to help his friend hold onto life that he had disregarded his own needs.

_I must be absolutely insane... _Sascha thought, thinking over how hard he had fought just to save Mikhail. He stuck another spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth, and looked over to the sleeping Mikhail. He wondered just what the man dreamed about that kept him in such a deep sleep, considering the argument between Scout and Engineer had escalated to a high level, now involving Soldier who felt the need to mention that during times of war you get hardly anything and like it.

"Zis team ought to have our own television show. It vould be quite a success." Sascha said softly, scooping up more oatmeal.

_I guess I'm no more insane than the rest of this team. _Sascha thought, as he stuck the spoon into his mouth once more. He gave another look to Mikhail, who was still passed out in his chair. Sascha picked his bowl up, and walked back over to the bed. He put the bowl down onto the bed and jumped up, making sure he didn't cause the vibrations of the bed to disturb his sleeping friend.

The doctor sat with his legs crossed on the bed, facing the direction of Mikhail. Sascha placed his bowl in his lap, and began to eat it in silence as he watched Mikhail. His breathing pattern seemed off, like he was out of breath or something. It didn't surprise him though, seeing as the man was quite overweight.

Or at least that's how it appeared. Sascha was never quite sure whether Mikhail was obese or very muscular. It certainly was ambiguous, seeing as both fat and muscle can make a person overweight. Sascha scanned the other man with his dark brown eyes, trying to determine whether Mikhail was truly obese or not.

_It's nearly impossible to tell just by looking at him... _Sascha thought,staring intently at Mikhail's sleeping frame. His arms were on the edge of the bed, folded into a pillow for Mikhail to rest his head on. Sascha shifted awkwardly on the bed, pushing his legs out to stretch them. He pushed himself over so he was closer to the sleeping Heavy, and just looked at him. The man hadn't seemed to mind all the noise coming from upstairs so far, nor had he been affected by the movements he made around the room.

_One touch won't be enough to wake him up. I'll just feel his arm quickly and I'll have my answer. _

Sascha lifted his own arm awkwardly, moving it slowly towards Mikhail. He bit his lip, feeling like he was doing something he shouldn't be. He reached out to touch Mikhail's shoulder lightly, and when his fingers brushed against the flesh of Mikhail's arm he gasped.

Sascha's face flushed red when he felt just how muscular Mikhail's arms had been. It had only taken one light touch to feel the extent of the man's muscles in his one arm. Then again, he wasn't so surprised at how muscular his arms were considering he carried around his mini-gun like it was a child's toy.

"He's amazing at vhat he does, no wonder he's got ze muscles of a bodybuilder." Sascha said, not realizing he was saying them out loud until it was too late. Sascha reached out to touch Mikhail's muscles once more, loving the way they moved ever so slightly with each breath the man took.

Sascha brought both of his hands up to Mikhail's large arm, and wrapped them around. He could hardly get his two hands to reach around the width of the arm.

"Such beautiful muscle..." Sascha breathed out, squeezing lightly on Mikhail's arm to feel the muscles tense up. He gasped lightly when Mikhail moved his arm in his sleep, and he quickly pulled away. He blushed an even brighter shade of red, thinking that Mikhail had woken up and seen what had happened. He relaxed slightly when he noticed Mikhail was just moving around in his sleep.

_Why am I acting this way? I'm a doctor, not some fourteen year old schoolgirl. _Sascha scolded himself, feeling a bit embarrassed for acting the way he just had. The man before him was a team mate and a new friend, not his plaything, and surely he wouldn't enjoy being made a plaything.

The thirty nine year old doctor wasn't sure when he knew that he had an interest in guys. He could remember being open to everything, and everyone, ever since he was a teenager. There was one boy he always remembered to be his first, a classmate of his when he was fifteen invited him over, only to force him to have sex.

The only thing he really remembered was that he had genuinely enjoyed it, no matter how much he had cried and asked the boy to stop.

Sascha brought his legs to his chest, and rested his chin on his knees. He felt so self-conscious at the moment, even though no one was awake near him to see or hear what he had done. He let out a sigh as he watched Mikhail sleep, and shook his head. He rested both hands on his feet, allowing his fingers to curl up around his socked feet. He listened to the argument upstairs as it gradually came to an end with the slamming of a door. Sascha could hear Mikhail's heavy breathing once again, and felt strangely comforted by the sound.

After a few minutes, Sascha could hear the sound of Sniper being awoken by one of his team mates. They exchanged some words, and Sniper left. Hardly a second went by before the door opened up to reveal Spy. He gave a questioning look to the sleeping Mikhail, and then to Sascha. Sascha made a gesture, to tell him not to ask about it. Spy simply nodded, and cleared his throat softly.

"'ow are you feeling, doctor?" Spy asked, avoiding the doctor's gaze. He had heard from Sniper that Heavy had requested to spend time alone with Medic, and Spy knew that the doctor was into a different lifestyle than the rest of the men. It was something that quite frankly bothered the Red Spy, but he never tried to think about it for too long.

"I'm fine, danke herr spy." Sascha said gently, keeping his eyes on Spy.

"We're all meeting in the intelligence room. Please wake 'eavy up and meet us there. You've got fifteen minutes." He coughed into his fist, and scanned the room for something else to talk about. He felt extremely awkward just standing there, and didn't just want to leave so abruptly, but he just couldn't think of something else to discuss with Sascha.

Sascha nodded slowly at the other man, and placed his eyes on Mikhail. Spy noticed this shift in attention, and nodded to Sascha. He said nothing as he left, leaving just as awkwardly as he had entered. The doctor just sighed heavily, and stood up. He walked over to the fridge in the room, used mainly to cool medicines and to keep drinks cold for those who were dehydrated. But Sascha had recently begun keeping his lunches in there, seeing as he spent 75% of his time there.

He had a sandwich in the fridge that was supposed to have been his lunch yesterday, but because of his little detour after the mission he had completely missed lunch.

_This ought to be suitable breakfast for Heavy... _He thought, knowing how much Mikhail had said he loved his mother's handmade sandwiches. This sandwich had in fact been handmade, instead of the mass produced sandwiches that the team often got from Redmond Mann. They weren't terrible, but there was a distinct difference between them and the handmade stuff.

He put the sandwich onto a plate, and carefully walked up to Heavy. He hopped back up onto the bed, and gently tapped Mikhail's shoulder. He stirred slightly, rolling his head towards the source of the tapping. Sascha tapped him again, this time waking Mikhail.

"Doktor? What is the time? Did we miss mission?" Mikhail asked, a sense of panic rushing over him as his eyes searched for a clock. Sascha just chuckled and shook his head.

"Nein, Mikhail, ve have not missed ze mission. But Leon and ze team are vaiting for us. Here, you should eat, you must be hungry." Sascha said, pushing the plate with the sandwich on it towards Mikhail.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the food. "Sandvich?" He asked, excitedly. "You made this, Doktor?" Sascha simply nodded quietly, smiling at the expression on Mikhail's face.

Mikhail smiled softly at the other man. "You are good friend, Sascha." He picked up the sandwich, and bit into it hungrily. He also had not eaten since breakfast yesterday, so this sandwich was very much appreciated. He held out the tip of the sandwich for Sascha to have a bite, but the man turned down his offer.

"I already ate Mikhail, danke." He said, pointing to his bowl that was half finished. Mikhail simply shrugged, and went back to eating.

It took him around two minutes to finish the sandwich, since he was trying to savor the taste of it. It was absolutely delicious to him, especially after going so long without eating. He also wanted to enjoy the sandwich for as long as possible, seeing as Sascha had made it himself. He wasn't sure why, but something about the doctor having made the sandwich by himself made it extra special to him.

He suppressed a burp, feeling that it would be incredibly embarrassing and rude of him to do so. Instead he simply gave Sascha a grin as a response to how much he enjoyed the food. He then sat there in his chair that was just a little too small for him, waiting for Sascha to make the next move, or speak the next word.

But Sascha also kept quiet, thinking that Mikhail would be the one to speak next. They stayed like this, until finally they got tired of silence and both spoke up at once.

"So, about last night..." They both said in unison.

The two stared at each other in disbelief. How had they both come up with the exact same words, at the exact same time? It was something you'd see in a sitcom, but never in real life. They looked away quickly, wondering just what the other one was thinking about saying.

_Did I go too far? _They both asked themselves, wondering if the other was weirded out by everything that had happened yesterday.

The silence between the two went on for a couple of minutes, as a cloud of awkwardness hung over the both of them. Sascha shifted awkwardly on the bed, curling his fingers around his toes once again. He stared down at his socked foot, hoping he didn't seem as awkward as he felt at the moment.

Mikhail felt similarly, reaching his left hand up to scratch the back of his head. He felt incredibly stupid for bringing up, but also felt embarrassed that Sascha had brought up the same point. He had only intended on telling Medic that he had enjoyed the time they had spent together yesterday, and that he was having some incredibly confusing feelings.

The most confusing thing of all was the way he felt when Sascha had told him not to leave him. The way the man's words had affected him and made him feel as if he needed to protect Sascha like he was a helpless child were absolutely confusing.

Even more confusing was the fact that Mikhail had dreamed of Sascha that night.

His dream had been that he was doing battle, and Sascha was healing him. Sascha was hurt, and Mikhail fought hard to get Sascha help. He carried him all the way to a safe spot where he could get the doctor health, and told him about the things that he felt. The dream got pretty strange then, and Mikhail wasn't even sure how it ended.

All he knew was that it had been kind of nice. It was a feeling he hadn't felt since he had been a boy, and it honestly scared Mikhail a little.

Mikhail coughed, which made Sascha flinch slightly. Mikhail searched the room for something to do or say that could break the silence, seeing as Sascha seemed pretty preoccupied and introverted at the moment. He couldn't find anything at all, making it all the more awkward.

They sat in a few more minutes of silence until they heard the sound of the door being pounded on. Both men looked to the door, waiting for someone to enter, but the door remained shut. Instead they heard a voice come from the other side.

"Ey, ladies, finish da tea party later, we got work ta do! We're waitin' for ya down in da intel, c'mon!" Scout called out, hitting the door with his wooden bat a couple more times. The two men heard him then run off, most likely back to the intel, where the rest of the team waited.

Both men sighed with relief at the break in the silence, and looked to each other once more. Mikhail gave a nod to Sascha, who nodded in response. They both grabbed their weapons, which were conveniently waiting for them in the corner of the room, and headed for the door.

Sascha grabbed his boots and pulled them on, then reached out for a pair of his red rubber gloves. He pulled them on hastily, and hurried to leave the room. He was glad that Scout had come to interrupt their awkward silence, and was happy just to leave that room.

Mikhail looked at Sascha, and tried to smile. It seemed awkward and forced, but it was a smile nonetheless. "We go together, Doktor."

Sascha gave him a weary smile, still feeling weird. He nodded to him, and followed behind him holding his Kritzkrieg out in preparation for battle.

Later...

"Cry some more!" Mikhail cried out, as he fired his beloved mini-gun out at the opposing team. He watched as the Blu team's members fell to the ground before him. A Soldier took out his rocket launcher, and aimed right for Mikhail. He didn't worry about it, though, seeing as he was being healed by Sascha, and he was pretty durable without the help of his medic friend.

Sascha was hidden just out of reach of anyone outside the doorway that Mikhail stood in. He was an easy target for anyone who happened to come out from the other door though, a fact that Sascha was cautious of. He made sure to look behind him every so often to make sure no one was creeping up behind him.

The Soldier shot the rocket just as Sascha was looking behind him. He had heard a sound from around back, and wanted to make sure it wasn't something he needed to be concerned about. The rocket hit the ground near Mikhail, dealing a bit of damage to Sascha who had been standing relatively close to the other man. His focus then turned towards his front, as he realized he had been damaged.

When he was distracted, the blue Spy he had heard before came out of hiding. The Spy prepared a back stab, when the muffled sounds of a Pyro interrupted him. The Pyro was trying to call attention to the Spy at Sascha's back, to allow the doctor the opportunity to save himself.

Sascha heard Pyro's cries, and pulled out his bonesaw. He quickly shoved the melee weapon into the Spy, and withdrew after a moment. The Spy had been able to get some stabs in with his knife before dropping to the ground, successfully incapacitated.

Sascha sighed heavily, feeling relieved that he had gotten rid of the Spy for the moment. The man inhaled deeply, and fell to the ground. That Spy had done a good amount of damage with that knife, and left him feeling incredibly weak.

"Mikhail, I need help." Sascha called out weakly, trying his best to aim the Kritzkrieg at Mikhail to keep him healed. It was hard for him, seeing as he was having trouble keeping himself up. He estimated he was at the danger level health-wise. He knew if he got another blow to him he'd be sent off to the medical bay to be healed for a good amount of time until he could fight again. Of course a number of things could happen in the time that he was gone, and he could possibly miss the whole mission if he was hit hard enough.

Mikhail hardly heard the words over the sounds of his gun, which he had been able to reload from the weapons of all his fallen enemies. Pyro began to call out for Mikhail as well, hoping to catch the large man's attention for Sascha's sake.

"Heavy! Help the Medic!" Pyro called out, from the little deck above the hall that Sascha and Mikhail occupied. There was a square large enough for a person to jump down and ambush, which had been Pyro's intentions.

When Heavy still failed to notice, Pyro pulled out the flare gun and shot off a flare towards a wooden crate next to Mikhail. The crate went up in flames, which immediately caught Heavy's attention. He turned to look at the source of the fire angrily, but was pointed in the direction of the hurting Medic.

Mikhail nearly dropped his gun when he saw Sascha. How had he let someone get close enough as to hurt Sascha? Mikhail saw the body of the Spy, and growled. He was incredibly annoyed that a spy had gotten close enough to Sascha to hurt him, all without Mikhail knowing. It was infuriating.

Mikhail turned to look outside, and saw that the blu team was attempting to regroup across the bridge. He would need to get Sascha out of harm's way, and find him a health pack.

_Just like in my dream... How spooky. _

Mikhail figured the getting a health pack and finding a safe spot would have to come first, so he left the doctor believing him to be under Pyro's watch. He knew as long as Pyro was around, no spy could come in and hurt Sascha. Mikhail found a perfect safe spot a little bit away, where they could safely hide in a relatively small crevice without being found. He ran to find a health pack, which was lying only a few steps away from the hideout. Once he grabbed the pack, he hurried back to Sascha's spot, failing to notice the Pyro carcass lying on the ground near the doorway.

Mikhail lifted Sascha's body, and slung him over his shoulder. He grabbed his mini-gun, which he had dropped when he ran for health, which had significantly increased his speed. He made sure there were no blu team members around when he tucked Sascha into the hideaway, and then crawled in himself.

He handed the health pack to Sascha, who took it graciously. After he had healed, the doctor nodded to him and smiled. Mikhail smiled, seeing Sascha smile, and looked away at the ground. He drew circles in the dirt, wondering if he should mention the dream he had last night that was like this.

_Maybe I'm a psychic of some kind, and I can see the future. Should I mention this to Sascha? _

Sascha looked up at Mikhail, seeming bored. He looked around at the ground awkwardly, seeming like he was nervous. The doctor cleared his throat, and sat up straight.

"So, mein freund, is zere anyzing zat you vant to talk about?" Sascha asked, looking into Mikhail's eyes nervously. The man looked away quickly, just before Mikhail could register that Sascha had looked at him.

Mikhail was surprised. He wasn't sure how Sascha had been able to read his mind like that, because he _did_ have something to tell the doctor. He drew a few more doodles in the dirt, and looked up shyly at his friend.

"Well, you are correct doktor. I have something to say, but I do not think-"

Sascha smirked, and held up a finger to his lips. "Do not zink about it, Heavy. Just tell me vhatever it is zat you zink I should know." He said, shifting to sit on his knees in the dirt.

Mikhail looked at Sascha with another look of surprise, wondering just what had gotten into Sascha. He couldn't imagine what was making the man act so out of character, but he dismissed the thought for now.

"If you say so doktor." Mikhail said, shifting to sit on his knees too. He placed his large hands in his lap, and stared at them for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to word what he had to say.

"Doktor, we are friends, yes?" He asked, looking at him sincerely.

Sascha made a strange face, and then awkwardly nodded his head. "Sure ve are, Heavy."

Mikhail smiled slightly and nodded his head. "Well, doktor last night I have dream. About you. It was this moment exactly. You get hurt, I help you, then I say that I have strange feelings." Mikhail said.

Sascha made another strange face, looking like he was both nervous and disturbed, and immediately went to correct it. He gave another awkward smile, and coughed gently into his hand.

"Vhat are zese, er, feelings like? Do zhey feel good to you?" Sascha asked, his voice wavering slightly at his words.

Mikhail nodded, and looked into Sascha's eyes in a sort of confused and shameful way. He was absolutely confused by his own feelings, and also a little ashamed that he was having them.

"Da, they are good. They make me want to protect you and stay with you. All the time, not just in battle. I want to never see you hurt, like what blu spy do to you. It makes me want to kill spy next time I see his masked face. It is very confusing to me, Sascha." Mikhail said, clasping his hands together in his lap. He stared down into his hands, wondering just what Sascha would make of his feelings.

Sascha's face contorted into an even stranger look when Mikhail mentioned the Spy, and a look of shock swept over his entire body when he realized just what Heavy meant.

_He wants to stay with... oh God what have I gotten myself into? _The man thought, swallowing the lump of fear in his throat. He let out another cough into his hands, and tried to fix his look of fear.

"What can you tell me about feelings, Sascha? Is this normal?" Mikhail asked. The look in his eyes gave off a hint of desperation, something that Sascha caught on to quickly. He cleared his throat, and wiped his hand on his forehead.

"Vell, Heavy, zese zings you feel seem like feelings a man vould feel for a voman. It seems like you feel love for... me." Sascha said, pausing to cough in between the last two words.

Mikhail looked up in surprise at Sascha. "Doktor, is not the same feelings I have for woman. It is different than that. It is new feeling to me. There is no way it could be love, because you are man."

Sascha shrugged, and avoided Mikhail's gaze. Things were just getting a little too awkward here, and he just wanted to get out of the situation.

_No amount of secrets is worth this. How can I get out of this mess? _The man thought, looking around for a diversion of some kind. He coughed once again into his hand, and tried to smile at Mikhail.

"Heavy, all I can say is zat you may be developing feelings for men. All of ze evidence points to zat, from all you just told me." Sascha said, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

Mikhail sighed, and nodded, feeling defeated. He felt as if his love for another man was a sign of weakness. He felt like he was less of a man for having feelings for the doctor, no matter how many times his heart told him he was wrong. It wasn't even like he could hide it now, seeing as he just admitted it to Sascha.

Sascha saw the sign of defeat in Mikhail's eyes, and smiled gently. He reached out to touch Mikhail's shoulder, and patted it gently.

"Do not vorry, Heavy, ve can still be friends." He said, trying to be as warm and comforting as he could to the sad man. Mikhail nodded sadly, and looked up. He watched as Sascha coughed once more into his hand.

Mikhail then sat up straight, thinking over everything Sascha had said to him. This whole time, Sascha had not used his real name once, and the man had coughed more than usual. Something didn't add up to him.

"Doktor, why do you cough so much? You are not hurt." Mikhail said cautiously.

Sascha frowned, and removed his hand from Mikhail's shoulder.

"Vell... I vas hit by zat Spy a few times. And zat explosion really took a lot out of me, you know how it is." He said, trying to smile awkwardly.

Mikhail frowned slightly. "Yes, and you got health. You should not hurt anymore, and you still cough."

"Vell..." Sascha started, trying to figure out what to say.

"And why have you been calling me 'Heavy'? Why have you not used my name?" Mikhail asked, squinting his eyes at the man before him.

Sascha coughed, and chuckled lightly. "I don't know vat you are talking about, Heavy. You never told me your name." He said, reaching up to scratch his head.

"What have you done with Sascha?" Mikhail asked, crossing his arms. He glared at the man before him, demanding an answer from the man.

Sascha simply looked at Mikhail questioningly. "Vat are you talking about, Heavy? You must be sick, here let me help you out."

Sascha went to move over to Mikhail and help him, when Mikhail's large arm flew out towards the man. He grabbed "Sascha" by the neck, and stood up with him. The man in his fist squirmed and gasped for air, trying to plead for Mikhail to let him go.

"You know what I am talking about, spy." Mikhail said, staring into the eyes of the imposter with a look of absolute hatred. He slammed his fist, and the man, into the closest concrete wall. The blow caused the man's disguise to wear off, revealing the blu spy.

The man was gasping for air, and now attempting to scream in agony. Mikhail lifted his fist high, raising the Spy up in the air to cause more discomfort.

"Now, you will tell me what has happened to Sascha, or you will die. Do you understand?" Mikhail informed the Spy. The Spy simply kicked and struggled to break free, hoarsely crying out for his teammates to help him.

"There is no help for you now. Tell me where he is." Mikhail said, squeezing on the Spy's windpipe tighter. He loosened the grip afterwords, just to let it be a warning to the man to comply.

"I... do not know... where he is. Let me go!" The Spy managed to get out. He was grabbing at Mikhail's fist, trying to loosen the man's grip on his neck. But it was pointless, seeing as Mikhail's grip was ten times stronger than his own.

"I do not believe you, little spy." Mikhail said, smashing his fist into the wall again. The Spy cried out in agony, and tried to kick at Mikhail. His feet were able to kick the man, but merely kick him in his gut. It was all muscle and fat there, which made the kick feel like no more that a light tap.

"Now will you tell me, or do you wish to die?" Mikhail asked the man, as if he was giving him an option.

"I... gave him to the Scout... to hide him..." The Spy choked out.

Mikhail growled at the mention of the Scout. He pushed the Spy into the wall one more time. "Where did he hide him?"

"In... the blu sewers..." The Spy said. Mikhail threw the Spy to the ground, and hurried off to go save Sascha. Before he left, he turned back around to the Spy.

"If you tell anyone what you heard I will come into your home and kill family. This is understood?" Mikhail warned, to which the blu Spy nodded his head painfully.

Mikhail walked away when he got his response from the Spy, and headed for the quickest and easiest entrance into the blu team base. He couldn't simply just walk over the bridge between the two bases, that would surely get him noticed and killed. He'd have to swim between the two bases to get into the sewers, and he'd have to take the secret tunnel between the intelligence room and the sewers to get there without much notice.

_I'm coming Sascha, please hang on. _

{{Author's note: I love relatively long chapters. Aparantly so do you guys, which is good for me. XP

So how'd you guys like it? Leave me your comments and concerns in the reviews, and just give me the heads up on how you think I'm doing so far. Also, if you were wondering what map I was basing the base off of, it's kind of my own creation, though most of it is based off of 2fort.

Anyways, I just want you all to know how long it took me to finish writing this chapter. It took me about a week and a half to finish this chapter, which is insane for how long it took to complete most of the other chapters (it took maybe 4-5 days for the longest chapter, and that was because of my own laziness). So I hope this one does justice to the amount of time it took to write.

Okay, well I think I should end the note here. See you guys in the next chapter! C: }}


	7. Iris

Mikhail made his way down the stairs of his base, heading into the usually unoccupied portion of the red team's base. It was a portion of the sewers that was only good for getting the team out to the body of water that sat between the two bases. But the team hardly ever fought in the water, unless it was absolutely necessary. They were more likely to run recklessly into the battle headfirst, risking everything.

Mikhail was thankful that it was clear then, seeing as he wanted to go into his little mission all alone. He didn't want any of his teammates knowing that he was going in to save Sascha, because he feared they could blow the whole thing. If he had a partner not only would he have to worry about himself, he'd also have to worry about the teammate tagging along with him, which could be dangerous.

Mikhail's burning rage for the situation was dangerous enough for anyone to come across, even for a teammate. He was just about ready to take a swing at the first person to cross him in this situation.

He held his mini-gun in his arms, trying to keep quiet so that he would be able to hear any nearby enemies. He ran up the stairs, after trudging through the murky water along the corridor, and entered the pipe dump into the water. He listened for where the opposing team was, and figured most of them were up on the bridge, or outside the ground floor of their base.

He rounded the corner of the pipeline, and saw across the pond was an enemy Soldier, who had not yet spotted Mikhail. He was too busy trying to see what was going on on top of the bridge. This gave Mikhail the time to jump into the water, and swim across to the man. He climbed into the open pipe of the blu base and stood before the Soldier, who jumped when he saw Mikhail.

He tried to call out to his team, but Mikhail pulled out his shotgun and shot the man in the chest, point blank. The man fell to the ground, and Mikhail stepped over his body, his mind set on getting Sascha back. He would not allow for them to do anything to Sascha, and god help them if they already did.

He ran down the pipe, but stopped when he heard the sounds of a Scout around the corner. He heard the young boy's annoying laughter, along with his cry of "Bonk!". Mikhail had to stop himself from snarling in hatred at the mere sound of the young boy. He started to spin the barrel of his mini-gun, and slowly made his way up to the corner.

The Scout heard the spinning gun, and hurried to get out of there. He'd have to be quick to make it out of there before Heavy caught him. He did not want to have to suffer through another beating by the hands of the red Heavy. The boy pushed a few buttons on the wall, triggering the secret door to open up. He ran in, and hurriedly pressed the keypad to make the door shut.

The door didn't shut quick enough, as Mikhail spotted it shutting behind the Scout when he rounded the corner. He stopped spinning his gun, and trudged over to the wall where the door had been. It now seemed like it was an innocuous wall, other than the fact that it gave a slightly different sound when tapped on.

Mikhail frowned, and pounded on the wall, wondering if it would break if he threw himself at it hard enough. He growled in frustration, and looked at the wall next to the secret door. It was covered in buttons and a keypad, and it seemed you needed to use a code to get into the secret room. Mikhail looked at it curiously, wondering if there was some way to crack the code.

As Mikhail looked at the keypad in frustration, he heard a scream come from beyond the door. Mikhail froze, feeling like the voice seemed familiar.

_Sascha... What are they doing to you? _

Mikhail growled low, knowing the scream had to have come from Sascha. It was too deep to be from the Scout, and from what Mikhail knew there was no one else in that room besides Sascha and the Scout. He could hear another scream from inside, which sent Mikhail into a frenzy.

"NO ONE TOUCHES SASCHA!" Mikhail roared, pulling his mini-gun to his chest. He threw himself into the door, using his gun like a battering ram, and broke it with ease. He continued down the hallway, trying to listen for a sign of Sascha.

His sign came in the form of an annoying young man's laughter, and another man's sobbing. The sobbing was Sascha's, something he had learned from the way the other man had cried the night before. It was deep, like the man's voice, but sounded almost like a child with the way the sobs came out. It was painful to hear, even more painful to see since the man curled up like a child when he was crying.

Mikhail vowed to never hear that sound ever again, unless it was sobs of joy.

Mikhail stopped in the hallway, seeing it split off in two directions.

_God damn them for building this place like this. Why the hell do they need an area like this? Hat purpose could this place serve? _Mikhail wondered, feeling like this place would be the perfect setting for a horror film.

He looked down the one hall, then down the other, and listened for the sounds that would give away Sascha's position. He heard a scream of agony, which seemed muffled by something. Mikhail knew it was Sascha, and hurried down the right hallway. He just had to get Sascha out of there before they got to do anything else to him.

_Mikhail, you are so stupid. How could you let this happen to him? You were the one who vowed to protect him, and now look what happened. _Mikhail mentally put himself down. He knew he had been lazy with his protection of Sascha, and he knew he probably should have taken Sascha with him when he searched for health. It made so much more sense to him now.

Mikhail walked down the hall, listening for another hint of where Sascha would be. He couldn't really hear anything at the moment, seeing as he was deafened with rage. He was having trouble seeing now too, considering he was going over every possible situation that could be happening to Sascha right then.

He tried to calm down to listen carefully, and heard muffled cries coming from the furthest room down. Mikhail moved as fast as he could to the door at the end of the hall, and grabbed the handle. It was no surprise that the door was locked, and it was even less surprising when the young man inside cried out in fear at the sound of the door being hit.

From inside, sounds of muffled crying could be heard, and they escalated to screams when Mikhail began pounding on the door.

"LET HIM GO!" Mikhail shouted from beyond the door. He pounded on the door with both of his fists, being as forceful as he could. He wanted to bust down the door like he had before, but this door was much tougher to break. Mikhail could feel the difference between this door and the one he busted down before. This metal was obviously built to resist being broken in.

The 19 year old inside felt a sense of relief when he realized that he was protected by the door, and chuckled in that annoying, nasally way. That alone would have been enough to send Mikhail into a frenzy, but the Scout had to take it one step further.

"Today ain't ya day, pancakes! Ey maybe you'd like ta reconsider my offer to take out Sasha for that nice steak dinner. Whad'ya think about that, doc?" The Scout said, taunting the man outside of the door. Sascha let out a cry for help, which was muffled by the gag that was placed over the man's mouth.

The Scout didn't know it, but he had just said the absolute worst thing to say at that moment.

Mikhail stared into the door, imagining the smug look on the Scout's face. He could just see the way the boy would snort and laugh at his words, like he had written comedy gold. Even worse was the way he could just imagine Sascha's face, as the Scout did something terrible to him. He saw the pain in Sascha's face, and the way he cried for help.

Mikhail covered his head with his hands, and shut his eyes. He wanted the images to go away, but all he could see was the pain in Sascha's face. He could hear Sascha's pained cries for help, and he felt Sascha's pain. It was all too much for him.

The Scout kept chuckling, and poked at Sascha with the end of his bat. "C'mon doc, say something. Or do I gotta use da bat again?" He asked, feigning concern. The Scout snorted with laughter, as Sascha cried out for Mikhail's help.

Mikhail clawed at his own head, wanting an easy solution to this predicament. How was he going to get Sascha out of that room, if he was unable to bust the door down?

_The door may be unbreakable, but is it bullet proof? _Mikhail wondered, looking at his mini-gun on the ground. He picked the heavy weapon, and spun the barrel to prepare it. He stared at the door, and made sure he had the best shot at the door.

"Last chance little Scout. Open this door or suffer the consequences." Mikhail called out, using a surprisingly calm voice for the situation. Granted, it was also a voice full of anger, but it was an angrily calm voice.

The Scout simply laughed from beyond the door, figuring there was no chance for Mikhail to enter the room. It was made of reinforced steel, and was specially made as a defense against heavies. Bullets alone couldn't knock the door down, nor could the man's body, so there was no chance for him getting in.

"Good luck pally. Dis door ain't gonna budge an inch, no matta how hard ya try ta get in." The Scout called out, pretty much begging Mikhail to try and break the door down.

_That's what you think, stupid Scout. _

Mikhail furrowed his brow, and held his gun up to aim at the side of the door. He fired a round of bullets into the door, not stopping until he had used up about three quarters of his ammo. It didn't take long for that to happen, and when he stopped firing the door seemed to be almost perfectly intact.

The Scout relaxed when the gunfire had ceased, and when he opened his eyes he noticed the door was still intact, save for a few dents and holes in the door. It was clearly not enough damage to break the door down, and it left Mikhail in a pretty tight situation with only a quarter of his ammunition left.

"Ey look at dat! I told ya it was impossible. Dis door ain't going nowhere, pancakes." The Scout called out, sounding almost surprised at the way the door held up. The boy laughed, feeling quite powerful in this situation.

Mikhail scowled and stared into the door, imagining the Scout's wretched, laughing face. Mikhail had to restrain himself from going absolutely ballistic at that moment.

"You find this funny, Scout?" Mikhail asked, holding his mini-gun to his chest. It was almost useless at this point for anything other than bludgeoning someone to death.

The Scout's response was another round of laughter, which made Mikhail growl like an animal ready to pounce. He did not like the way the nineteen year old handled this serious situation.

"You are bigger fool than I thought." Mikhail said, brushing his large hand against the barrel of his mini-gun.

Mikhail let out a fierce roar of anger, and charged at the door. He threw his entire body into the door, using the mni-gun as an added weight to help bust down the door. The door was thrown back into the Scout, who screamed in sheer terror when the door came hurdling towards him.

The boy stood there in wonderment, staring at the broken door. There was no way the man could have busted the door down, it was supposed to be built to survive any barrage of bullets and body mass that a heavy could produce. And yet here it was, now lying on the floor before the blue Scout.

The Scout looked up into the face of Mikhail, to see nothing but a scornful frown and glaring eyes. The man's face was full of a quiet rage, which quite frankly terrified the young boy. Mikhail held his mini-gun up, like a shield as a defense against anything the Scout could come up with.

The petrified Scout was frozen with fear. His legs were locked in place, and shaking as he watched the large Russian man turn his head to see Sascha. The man's expression changed from calm rage to shock when he noticed Sascha's condition.

Sascha was crying out in pain, and lying face down on all fours. His arms were taped together, and behind his back, while his feet were taped at the ankles. He was completely naked, save for his gloves and tie. His mouth was covered in the same tape that bound his hands and ankles.

"Sascha!" Mikhail cried out, causing the Scout to jump in fear. Mikhail rushed to Sascha's side, dropping his mini-gun to the floor. Mikhail went to touch Sascha's face and calm the man down. Sascha shivered at the touch, and rolled over to reveal to Mikhail various bruises and burns on his body. He was bruised up around his chest, and had burns running along the back of his thighs. He had a large bruise on his back, just above his buttocks.

He quickly removed the tape from Sascha's mouth, hoping that he didn't cause the man too much pain. He didn't really feel the sting from the tape, for he was dealing with a lot more pain in other areas. Mikhail gently touched Sascha's face, and made Sascha look him in the eyes. Sascha cried out in pain and embarrassment.

"Sascha, what did they do to you?" Mikhail asked gently, cupping Sascha's face in his hands. Sascha said nothing, but gave him a look that said everything.

Mikhail saw the desperation and pain in Sascha's eyes, and felt a tear roll down his cheek. He wiped away the tear, and stared intently at the floor. He picked up his fallen mini-gun, and rubbed off the little dirt that had gotten on it. He then looked up into the terrified face of the Scout, and growled low.

"You touched Sascha?" He asked, sounding surprisingly calm. The man's tone frightened the Scout even more. He gripped his scattergun tight, trying to find the strength to speak.

_Why the hell did I listen to that damn Spy? I knew I shouldn't have done this. I just knew it. _The Scout told himself.

"I... I didn't touch yer gun awright? I—I only did what da Spy told me to. None o' dis was my idea. I'm sorry man!" The Scout told him, backing up into the wall. Mikhail followed, and brandished his shotgun.

"If it was not your idea, why do you follow it?" Mikhail asked, giving the Scout a chance to plea for his life. The Scout gasped in fear, not knowing how to respond to the other man. He broke out into a nervous sweat, and swallowed the lump in his throat. Mikhail sighed.

"Silence as I expected. Your foolishness will cost you." Mikhail said, holding his shotgun up to the Scout's forehead. The Scout began to sweat, and tears rolled down the young boy's face. He was too young to be in a situation like this.

Mikhail smirked evilly, and pushed the barrel of his shotgun into the boy's forehead. He could feel the Scout quivering with fear, could practically smell the sweat pouring out of his body. It was an all too familiar smell to Mikhail, the scent of fear.

"Go on, cry. Beg for life just like you made Sascha." Mikhail whispered. The Scout was pleading with the man to spare him. He fell to his knees, and cried over how all he wanted to do was go home to his mother, never to return to the Blu team. Mikhail shook his head.

"You are spineless little boy. Is very pathetic." Mikhail said, grabbing the Scout by his neck. He lifted him into the air, and slammed him against the wall. His other hand held the shotgun up to the boy's forehead, still threatening to pull down the trigger if he needed to.

The Scout was sobbing at this point, pleading for his life. All he wanted to do was live to see one more match.

In the war that they fought, killing was almost forbidden. In fact, the rule was that once you've bludgeoned your enemy into submission, that was it. You were to let the other team find their fallen team mate, and then they were brought back to respawn.

But this was now beyond the control of respawn. In fact, this whole ward had to be out of the jurisdiction of the war between the two teams. This place was a torture chamber, and definitely wasn't commissioned by Blutarch or the Administrator.

Mikhail frowned at the Scout. "You were doomed the minute you laid hand on Sascha." He placed his index finger on the trigger of the shotgun, and watched all the color leave the Scout's face. Mikhail kept a solemn face, listening to the pleas of the Scout as he pulled the trigger down.

The blood splattered, and Mikhail let go of the boy's neck, letting his body slump to the floor. He looked on at the boy's lifeless corpse shaking his head at the Scout's actions that lead him to this. He then heard the gasping cries of Sascha, and was immediately brought back to reality. He quickly knelt down next to the battered Medic, and pulled him into his lap. He ripped the tape off of Sascha's wrists and legs. Once freed, Sascha flung his arms up to reach for Mikhail.

"Mikhail! Zhey... Zhey did terrible zhings to me. Ze Scout... He took his bat and-"

"Sascha, please do not tell me. The problem is solved, da? He is gone, your troubles they will leave." Mikhail said, stroking Sascha's hair gently.

"He raped me, Mikhail. Zhey used zheir veapons and zhey-"

Mikhail's eyes widened. "What do you mean 'they'? Their was more than little Scout?"

Sascha nodded, shutting his eyes in both pain and shame.

"It vas a Scout und a Pyro. Und zat Spy you must have taken care of."

Mikhail was stunned. He thought he had taken out everyone involved in this whole ordeal, and was nearly out of ammo. He wasn't sure if he could take out another guy, especially with the dead weight of his mini-gun and Sascha.

He felt the gentle grip of Sascha's hands on his shoulder, and remembered one key fact: Sascha was missing his clothes. He took a quick glance around the room, and couldn't find the doctor's clothes anywhere.

"Sascha, did you see what they did with your clothes?" Mikhail asked calmly, lifting Sascha's chin with his thumb. He had stopped crying, but he was still visibly upset. His eyes themselves told the entire tale of his ordeal. It pained Mikhail to look into them for too long.

"Nein, Mikhail, I did not see vhere zhey hid zem. Ze Pyro is ze one zhat had my clothes." Sascha said, shutting his eyes. He just wanted to go to sleep, and forget everything that had happened within the past half hour or so. Mikhail frowned, and looked down at his own clothes. He could give Sascha his shirt, but he felt a little self conscious about himself.

Instead, he removed the bullet belt from his shoulder, and unbuttoned his vest. He used it to cover Sascha, almost like a blanket. The vest was about two times Sascha's size, so it was long enough that it covered him, and was able to wrap around him.

"This will have to do, Sascha. We will get you new clothes when we go back to base." Mikhail said, throwing the bullet belt over his shoulder. He attached his mini-gun to a strap on his back, so he could safely carry Sascha out of the blu base. He gently picked up Sascha, carefully resting him on his empty shoulder.

"Sascha, hold on tight. We are going to get out of here." Mikhail said, making sure Sascha understood before he took out his shotgun. He took a quick look around the room for anything interesting, but found nothing.

He glanced at Sascha, who had his eyes shut tight and his arms around Mikhail's neck.

"Just get me out of here, Mikhail. I vant to go to sleep." Sascha said wearily, gripping Mikhail's neck for dear life. Mikhail simply nodded, and took a serious face. He was determined to get Sascha out of this hellhole.

He turned himself to look out the door. There was a clear path from this hallway to the next, and from the lack of sound in the area it seemed there was a clear path out of this torture chamber.

Mikhail gripped Sascha tight, and ran into the hallway. Well, really he lumbered into the hallway, but it was like running to Mikhail. He turned the corner into the next hallway, and ran the straight path towards the door the exited into the Blu sewers.

_Don't worry Sascha... You are safe now. _

{{Author's note: OH DEAR GOD THIS TOOK ME FOREVER TO FINISH. XD

It's terrible, ever since I got out of school I've never found the time to finish writing. I find that it's like I don't want to, which is upsetting and pathetic. But don't worry, I WILL finish this story. I won't leave you guys hanging. C:

_So anyways, on to some advertising. I told you last chapter about this new roleplay site that a fellow reader created. Well I'd like you guys and gals to sign up for it. Cuz it's awesome. _

F2fwl (.) proboards (.) com (/) index (.) cgi

Really you guys, you'd be awesome if you join.

I'm too lazy to translate the few German bits in here. xD}}


	8. Everything Is Alright

{{Imma leave this up here, because people tend to ignore author's notes at the bottom of the page. Please join this roleplay site, it's awesome.

f2fwl(.)proboards(.)com(/)index(.)cgi

Mikhail cautiously turned his head around the corner, looking out into the Blu sewers. He saw no one in the sewers, but he heard a muffled cry from around one of the sewers' corners. It was a Pyro, probably the same one who helped to hurt Sascha.

Mikhail growled low, and picked up as much speed as he could. He could hear the muffled sounds of the Pyro growing nearer. He frowned in his angry way, and held his shotgun before him. He was ready to blow the Pyro's head off the minute he ran into him.

_No mercy for those who have harmed my friends. _Mikhail told himself.

As he came to the corner the sounds of the battle outside and the Pyro grew louder. Mikhail knew that he'd be face to face with the Pyro as soon as he rounded the corner, and most likely faced with a problem of getting across the water. The dead weight of Sascha and his gun would take a toll on his swimming ability, and trying to cross an active battlefield is just impossible.

Mikhail let out a heavy sigh, and turned around the corner. He held up his shotgun, right up to the head of the Blu Pyro. The Pyro wasn't paying attention to him, and barely realized the barrel of the gun against his mask.

"You hurt Sascha." Mikhail grunted, putting his finger on the trigger. The Pyro went to turn his head around, but was stopped by the force of the shotgun blast to his head. The Pyro was pushed out of the sewer by the force of the blast, pushed into the water.

One of Mikhail's teammates, a Soldier, watched the Pyro get killed. The man was standing across the way from him, and noticed he was carrying the hurt Medic.

"Hey! Heavy! Move your ass to our base now, before they get to you!" Soldier cried out, waving to Mikhail.

Mikhail simply nodded, and watched as his Soldier comrade drew his rocket launcher. He'd easily be able to hold off anyone who happened to come by. He jumped into the water, and swam across the water as best as he could.

It took him a little while, but he got across the watery gap between the two forts. He moved past his Soldier friend, who promptly instructed him that there may be intruders in their own base, and to be careful.

"Thank you, Soldier!" Mikhail called out behind him, already knowing what Soldier had told him. _Not that hard to figure out, if you think about it. _

He headed down the pipe that would lead to the stairwell. From their it was a straight shot to the floor with the Medic's bay. It was the perfect spot to store Sascha, and get ammo for his gun. He'd be able to save his friend and finish the fight.

He ran up the stairs, and just as he was about to round the corner to head towards the medical bay, he saw a friendly Engineer. The Engineer was running the opposite direction of Mikhail, and stopped when he saw the large man running up.

"Hey partner, gotta get him to tha sick bay fast as a jack rabbit. Lemme help ya out there." The other man came up to the hulking Heavy, and reached out to take Sascha. Mikhail nodded, and allowed his team mate to take Sascha.

The Red Engineer seemed to lose his balance when he took hold of Sascha, but found his balance after a few steps.

"All righty then. Why don't ya'll go on and help fight, I've got Sascha." Engineer said, giving Mikhail the grin that the man was nearly famous for. Mikhail smiled back seriously, and turned to walk to the resupply cabinet. He had begun to walk away when a thought came to him.

_How did he know Sascha's name?_

Mikhail spun on his heels, and turned to look at the back of Engineer.

"_Who else knows your name, Sascha?" Mikhail had asked. _

_Sascha looked away, lifted his hand to his head, and looked back up sheepishly. _

"_I have only told you, Mikhail._ _Ze only other person to know my name is ze administrator." Sascha responded, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. _

"_It's an embarrassing name, and in my line of vork you must be respected. People in zhis country zhink it is a girl's name. I didn't want it to get in the way of my vork." Sascha said, defending his choice to never reveal his identity to anyone. _

"_It is all right, Sascha. No need to defend self. I understand your reluctance."_

Mikhail growled low, and held up his shotgun. This man was no Engineer of his team. He was someone who had heard Mikhail say Sascha's name before. The only two people who had heard it were the now deceased Scout and...

"SPY!" Mikhail cried out, loading the shotgun.

The "Engineer" turned around quick, and panicked.

"Naw, y-you got this all wrong pardner! I'm on your side, don'cha recognize yer team mate?" The man asked, seeming a little fearful.

Mikhail squinted at the man, aiming his shot. He let out a couple of shots, without saying a word to the man. He was all to familiar with this man's tricks, and was tired of this sneaky little rat.

He heard the sounds of the shots hit the Spy's body, one directly in the head, and heard the screams of pain. The man fell to the ground, revealing his true self. Mikhail walked over to the Spy, and picked up Sascha.

"Stupid Spy. Never learns his lesson." Mikhail said, shaking his head. He made sure Sascha was still breathing, or not another clever trick from the Spy. He flicked Sascha's head, which made the man cry out in frustration.

"Mikhail, vhy did you do zhat?" Sascha asked wearily. Mikhail simply smiled, and carried Sascha in his arms.

"Just doing my own spycheck, Sascha. Forgive me." Mikhail said, feeling surprisingly good at this time.

He carried the man in his arms to the the infirmary, where he set Sascha on the same bed he had been in this morning. He covered Sascha with a blanket, and attempted to turn on the machine that could heal him. He wasn't too hurt from the whole ordeal, but he was pretty shook up from it.

Mikhail wanted to ask Sascha where he could find a new pair of clothes for him, but saw that the man appeared to be sleeping.

_Best not to disturb him, he's been through a lot. Shouldn't be too hard to find something for Sascha to wear in here..._ Mikhail thought, as he turned towards a supply closet in the room. He opened the door, and saw that half of the closet was full of Sascha's clothes. But they weren't the standard issue Medic outfit that the Red team issued. They were just regular clothes, stuff that Sascha would wear out of battle.

Mikhail couldn't understand why all of Sascha's regular clothes were in here, or why the man even had them. People rarely left the base, and if they did they had to go through countless amounts of clearance with the Administrator.

_I wonder if he ever wears these... _Mikhail wondered rummaging through the pile of clothes. He found a pair of brown cargo pants, along with a black crew neck sweater. Mikhail wasn't sure if that was considered fashionable, seeing as he only really had a few outfits, most of them being all the same. But he wasn't concerned with that right now, his only concern was getting Sascha clothed.

Mikhail furrowed his brow at the lack of boxers in the closet, which meant that Sascha would have to go commando for the time being. Mikhail chuckled gently at the idea, wondering how Sascha was going to respond when he woke up.

He turned back to Sascha, and noticed the man had turned over to face him.

_How convenient for me... _Mikhail placed the two pieces of clothing on the bed, and thought about how he was going to dress Sascha while the man slept. It felt so... intrusive to him to dress him up.

_But... I don't want to wake him just to make him put on clothes. And he can't stay naked. What if someone came into the room and saw him like that? It would be so embarrassing..._

Mikhail frowned, and took a deep breath. He picked up the pair of pants, and carefully removed the sheet from Sascha. He unzipped the pants, and picked up Sascha's legs gently.

"Sorry Sascha, I cannot leave you like this." Mikhail said softly, pulling one of Sascha's legs through the pant hole. He gently picked up Sascha's other leg, and pulled the pants all the way up Sascha's body. He swallowed a lump in his throat, as he wondered whether or not to zip up the pants. It was so awkward for him, to be in that situation.

He decided against zipping up the pants, and instead moved to put on Sascha's shirt. He lifted Sascha's body up, so he could pull the sweater over Sascha's head. He heard Sascha stir while he lifted the man's arms through the holes, but he ignored it. He finished up, and returned Sascha to the bed, smiling as he watched the man curl up to go back to sleep. Sascha cuddled the edge of the pillow, curling up his legs to lie in a fetal position.

Mikhail chuckled lightly, finding it adorable how the man slept. He turned around, searching the room for some ammunition. He couldn't find anything of use.

"Not good. I will have to go out and find ammo." Mikhail said in a hushed voice, so he wouldn't disturb Sascha. He went to leave, when he heard a soft voice call out his name.

"Mikhail?"

It was Sascha, who hadn't really been sleeping that whole time. He had opened his eyes, and stretched out his legs. He looked as if he was about to sit up, but the look on his face showed how difficult it was for him to even be lying n his side.

"What is it Sascha?" Mikhail asked, turning to face the man. Sascha wore a pained expression, one of both physical pain from trying to sit up, and emotional pain.

"Please don't leave me." Sascha said simply. He was terrified of being left alone, even if he was safely within his own base.

Mikhail looked at Sascha questionably, and then smiled sadly. He couldn't believe how foolish he was being. He thought he could just leave Sascha all by himself, after all that had happened to him. Of course the man was going to be scared to be alone. Mikhail moved back towards Sascha, and pulled over his chair from last night to Sascha's bedside. He reached out and took Sascha's hand in his, and patted it gently.

"I am sorry Sascha."

"Vhy are you sorry, Mikhail?" Sascha asked him.

Mikhail looked up at him with a mournful look.

"I did not pay attention and because of that you were hurt. What happened to you is my fault." Mikhail said.

Sascha seemed to think it over for a moment, and nodded for seemingly no reason. He then laid back down and rolled on his side. He looked like he was trying to go to sleep, which made Mikhail feel worse.

_Is this Sascha's way of telling me he agrees? Please Sascha, I'm sorry. Please don't turn your back on me... _

Mikhail sighed, and placed his hand on the side of the bed. He was staring at the floor, trying his hardest not to cry. He felt terrible about what happened, and this was not making it any better.

"I... I do not think I can forgive myself for what happened, Sascha. I do not expect you to forgive me either."

Sascha opened his eyes again, and just stared into the distance. He smiled softly, and shook his head. He used all of his energy to sit up, and turned himself so he could face Mikhail. Without warning, he threw his arms around Mikhail's neck, pulling the man into a struggled embrace. Mikhail felt his face flush, and he brought his arms up slowly to hug Sascha.

"Dummkopf." Sascha whispered.

Mikhail pulled away from the hug. He was slightly confused at this point.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked.

Sascha to hide his smirk, succeeding to a degree.

"Mikhail, you are a dummkopf. You zhink zat I blame you for vhat happened? You saved me. If anyzing, I owe you." Sascha said, reaching out to hug Mikhail once more.

Mikhail stared into the wall beyond Sascha, feeling utterly confused. He couldn't understand why Sascha would owe him anything. He had ignored Sascha on the battlefield, and terrible things happened to him. It just didn't make sense to Mikhail.

Mikhail just shrugged it off, feeling like things would be better if he just left things as they were. It would be better for the both of them if Sascha wasn't upset with him.

_I love you, Sascha... _Mikhail thought, longing to speak those words.

{{author's note: -sigh- I don't know where I'm going with this. I've lost so much creativity in my time off from school. I've been slightly depressed for the past month, and I don't know why. Maybe that's what is causing my terrible writing slump. :s

I don't intend on just dropping this story though, if that is what is worrying you. I will try my hardest to end this story, even if it just kind of ends badly. XD I kind of have an idea of the ending, but it really is just terrible.

Anyways, I told you about the roleplay site earlier. Yeah, if you love tf2 and roleplaying, or just enjoy reading roleplays, please join! We're in need of members to stir up drama, cuz so far there's only seven characters.

See you next chapter and sorry this one was so short.}}


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